


And when tomorrow comes along

by TJade



Category: Venom (Comics), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Genderbending, Genderswap, Humor, I headcanon genderbent Eddie as a sassy little lesbian, Romance, tho it's pretty much just Eddie who got genderbent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2019-09-02 15:43:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16789894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TJade/pseuds/TJade
Summary: Edie had always been the sort of person who bit off more than she could chew, so she wasn't sure why it was such a surprise when she choked.“I don’t have any further questions, Mr. Drake.  I’m telling you that I know why Maria Lake disappeared, and you know too.”"Famous last words," she thought.But if this was death, it wasn't so bad.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sayna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sayna/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea might've been knocking around in my head, but sayna is the reason you're reading this right now, because otherwise I would never have written this down.  
> Basically, in this universe, Eddie is a disaster lesbian, Anne is a policewoman, and Dan is...Dan.  
> Also there's a mysterious creature, ooo what could it be  
> (it's Venom, you all read the tags, ya'll know it's Venom, that's what you're here for)  
> Also I stole the title from Road's English lyrics of Vivi by hachi. Go look it up, it's a good song.

It was dark, and cold.

They were used to it. In fact, they delighted in it. They reveled in it, the almost-all-consuming blackness, the pitiless chill that would have killed a lesser creature, because the darkness had not devoured _them,_ and _they_ were not a lesser creature. They could not be consumed. They thrived where so many others died, because they were not weak.

That’s what they had told themselves. For a very, very long time.

They had not been born to be weak. They existed for the sole purpose of making others stronger, and they could hardly do that if they themselves were weak.

So they told themselves that they could not be weak. Because if they were weak, then they could not make others stronger. If they couldn’t strengthen others, what vessel would take them? Who would accept a tool unable to perform its appointed task?

No, they were strong. They had survived this long, so they must be. It had been self-preservation that had kept it alive when the others had taken to tearing each other apart. They weren’t a coward for running away- no, _retreating,_ it had been a strategic retreat. They could’ve won in a fight, but it had been the smart thing to hide and wait until the others were dead or weakened.

It was a shame the others were dead. Not because they were lonely, of course. Breaking out of the vault would’ve been a much more likely possibility had some of the others survived. That was all. They had attempted to nourish some of the survivors back to health, strictly in an attempt to bolster its chances of escape. It had been a calculated risk, one that hadn’t paid off.

They didn’t _miss_ the others. That would be ridiculous. Weapons had no need for companions.

They weren’t lonely. Certainly, they wished that the others had survived- strength in numbers- and they did want a vessel. What good was a tool without someone to use it? Every weapon needed a master to wield it. They were no exception. They were simply frustrated because of their lack of use, their potential being wasted. Of course they longed for a vessel. They needed one. If they didn’t need one, why would they want one? To have as a friend? The thought was laughable.

That’s what they had told themselves. Over and over, like it might become true if they repeated it enough.

Who were they kidding. Yes, they were lonely, desperately so. They wanted light in this endless tenebrous void. They wanted someone there with them, someone, anyone to relieve this ache in their (metaphorical) heart. They hungered for companionship.

They also hungered for food, unfortunately, and what they needed was in direct conflict with what they wanted.

They had managed to keep the rabbit alive for nearly a month now. It was missing a few non-vital organs. They thought the organs were non-vital, anyway- a kidney, an appendix, a chunk of the liver, bits of its brain. It might not have been a suitable vessel, but it provided some facsimile of company in this prison.

 _Had_ provided, anyway.

It was just fuel in the tank, they told themselves. They had been eating it as slowly as possible to preserve it as a food source. They had kept it alive for so long because raw meat was the most nutritious. It had been the intelligent thing to do.

They weren’t weak.

The ache was sharper now. In a lesser creature, they might have thought it was sadness, but they were above such emotions. No, the ache was…frustration. Their last possible supply of nutrients was gone, and they didn’t know where the next meal was coming from. They weren’t frustrated at themselves. Why would they be? They had done what they needed to do to survive.

They were strong.

The habit of telling that same lie was automatic now, but they no longer had the strength to pretend they believed it. They weren’t strong, they were pathetic. They had eaten the closest thing they’d had to a companion in this miserable place, and they were going to die as they had lived, empty and alone.

It was dark, and cold, and they hated it.

Then there was a burst of light and heat, and they froze.

**Warmth.**

They were so stunned that they just lay there, gaping, before realizing all at once that the vault was _open_ and they could get _out_ and they would be _free-_

They sprang forward and felt the heat enveloping them, burning them. They flinched, but freedom was so, so close and if they could just push through they could finally-

There were shrieks of terror, a dozen voices clamoring, faces blurred by the blazing flames around them, and then it was dark again.

**No.**

**NO!**

They threw themselves at the wall, thrashing furiously as if the stone might suddenly give after all this time just because they had been so close, escape had been in their grasp, and they couldn’t be trapped again, they _couldn’t,_ because even if another chance came their way in the next week they wouldn’t live to see it. Whatever prey that had been foolish enough to wander into the vault had long since been devoured, and their friends had grown wary of the place where so many of their kindred had vanished. The rabbit had only dared to approach because they had been half-dead, and the rabbit itself had been in bad shape, almost as bad as they had been.

If they didn’t get out now, they would never get out.

Almost as if responding to them, the cavern door opened. They pounced without hesitation, but their way was blocked by something warm: not burning, just warm and soft and fleshy and wet. They scrambled to get around this sudden obstacle, but the cavern’s exit sealed just as quickly as it had opened.

Their hopes didn’t crash again- hope had died the first time they had been shut back in. Dashing for the door again had been instinct, devoid of any foolish aspirations. Since they hadn’t been hoping for anything, they weren’t disappointed that their escape had been foiled a second time. Instead, they merely resigned themselves to their fate and retreated into the back of the cave to die quietly.

If they’d had any hopes left, they’d have hoped to die in peace. As it was, when their faint wish for silence during their demise was pushed aside without regard by a loud, cracked sobbing, they couldn’t summon the energy to be indignant.

It took far too long to occur to them that the sobbing meant they weren’t alone.

They couldn’t see their new fellow prisoner, but they could sense him. They could smell his sweat and blood and tears. They could feel an echo of his pain- a faint idea of the cuts scoring his skin, the throb of forming bruises, the screaming of broken bones whenever his sobs jolted his body.

They might’ve wondered why he was crying. They might’ve wondered what purpose his tears served when all they did was salt his wounds, might’ve questioned why his body shook and jumped when it only aggravated his injuries. They might’ve wondered, but they didn’t, because his physical pain was not the only pain of his they perceived.

The sting of pride sullied, the weight of fear pressing down, the piercing agony of uncertainty pushing through- these were all emotions they recognized. However, the one that stood out to them the most was the one the man seemed least focused on.

Buried under layers of adrenaline and terror and anxiety, a small, throbbing ache reached out to them, seeping through to their soul. The sensation wasn’t as fierce as they were used to, but undeniably they knew it. The feeling had gripped them like a vise for years on end, had been prying them apart piece by piece with each passing day.

Loneliness.

There was a jolt of new feeling through them, frantic desperation mixed with another, more dangerous emotion. If they could just reach back, help him understand, maybe, _maybe-_

They steadied themselves. They should not hope. Depending on something as fragile as hope here could only ever be a mistake. No, they would guard themselves, be cautious, careful.

Forcing down the swell of that deadly, all-too-delicate, completely unreliable emotion, they reached out slowly, daring only to whisper.

**Hello?**

The man’s head snapped upright. His eyes swiveled wildly until they landed on them.

All they could comprehend next was screaming. A hoarse, unholy continuous shriek, one that wouldn’t have been hurtful to them under ordinary circumstances. However, years of isolation had stripped their nerves raw. The scream burrowed straight into them, went through them as cleanly as a spear, then shattered and splintered inside them until they couldn’t bear it, they had to make it stop, make it stop, make it stOP-

Then it was silent.

The noise had hurt, but the sickly dread that crept over them now felt like embers scattered over their skin. They stared down at the cavern floor, for some reason unwilling to extend their “sight” any further than right in front of them. All they could smell was blood.

Impulsively, they forced themselves to stretch out their senses, tentatively reaching a little at a time, until their senses bumped up against something that didn’t quite register. Slowly, slowly, they crept forward until they brushed against what their senses had rejected.

The man was bleeding, more than he had been when he was first thrown in the vault. As they spread their touch over him, they could feel a divot in his skull. The new source of blood gave abundantly, welling up from the squishy, wet organ now unprotected by bone. They reached further, just enough to read the ghost of his last thoughts, and-

**Dark**

**Hurt**

**Scared**

**Pain**

They withdrew, so quickly and violently that they would’ve stumbled if they had limbs.

**Grabbed him. Grabbed him and hit him against the wall.**

**Wanted to make him stop.**

**He was hurting me.**

**I just wanted him to stop.**

**He stopped.**

**I hurt him.**

**I killed-**

**No. No, no, no no no no no no**

**I didn’t mean to.**

**I’m sorry.**

**I’m sorry.**

**I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry**

They curled into themselves, rasping their apologies in an endless hiss as if the man could hear them if they repeated it enough.

**Alone again.**

**Alone forever.**

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Name: Forever A. Lone

Job: Awfully bold of you to assume I’m employed

Hobbies: Planning world domination

Looking for: Somebody who’s rich enough to finance said world domination

“Well? Has anyone contacted you yet?”

Edie shrugged, running her fingers through her messy pixie cut. “Nope. It’s a mystery- my PassingShips profile makes me look irresistible. Maybe I should pick out a new profile picture?”

Edie pressed her phone up to her ear with her shoulder, smirking as she heard the tapping of keys on the other end of the line. There was a prominent pause, then a deep sigh that Edie was used to hearing more than she probably should’ve been.

“Seeing as your current profile picture is a pumpkin carved to look like it’s throwing up, I suppose it couldn’t hurt. It might also help to put down your real name, say that you’re a reporter, and list actual hobbies.”

“Wow, Anne. Planning world domination _is_ an actual hobby! Not my fault if nobody else is into it.”

Judging from another ten-second lapse of silence, Edie guessed that Anne was probably massaging her temples. “Edie, why did you bother setting up a PassingShips account if you’re clearly not interested in dating? I thought you were taking my suggestion seriously.”

When Anne had still been dating Edie, “I thought you were actually taking me seriously” and other similar phrases were usually delivered in an accusing tone, punctuated by Anne gesturing at Edie or using both hands to sweep her hair back from her forehead. Now that they were firmly in “exes-but-still-friends” territory, Anne still sounded exasperated, but in a manner that resembled a mother trying to be firm with a toddler more than an irritated girlfriend.

“If I did actually try to date someone, they’d have a tough act to follow,” Edie remarked flippantly. She pictured Anne rolling her eyes while hiding her own smile.

“Are you flirting again?” asked a not-Anne voice.

Edie grinned mischievously. “Yes, Dan. I am surreptitiously stealing your girlfriend’s heart back, piece by piece, waiting for the moment I can sweep her off her feet and run away with her to Atalanta.”

Dan laughed, and that prompted Edie to giggle. Even if she wasn’t into guys, Edie had to admit Dan had a nice laugh. Also nice eyes, nice smile, nice hair, nice _everything._ She should probably be jealous, but it was like trying to be jealous of a puppy. Edie just didn’t have the heart.

“Atalanta is a person, not a place. I think you meant Atlantis, or maybe Atlanta?” he provided.

“Naah, we’re totally gonna run away to meet the lady who got married for fruit and turned into a lion.”

Anne’s voice cut in again, and Edie could definitely hear the smile in it now. “So were you planning to do that before or after being maid of honor at our wedding?”

“I don’t think I can be maid of honor at my own wedding, Anne. If you really want me to be maid of honor, marry someone else. How about Dan? He seems nice.”

There was another deep sigh over the line that was, in all likelihood, being accompanied by an eyeroll.

“Next time be more careful with your objective pronouns,” Dan quipped.

“Nerd,” Anne replied fondly.

Edie coughed. “So, should I hang up now, or is it okay if I listen to you two making out?”

There was an exaggerated smacking sound, followed by Dan saying, “Okay, _now_ you can hang up.”

“Oh no you don’t, Edith Charlotte Brock,” Anne interrupted.

“Uh-oh, middle name and everything. Am I in trouble?”

There was another pause, a thoughtful one instead of an exasperated one. “I just…I know that you haven’t really been getting out much on your own since we broke up.”

Edie scratched the back of her neck, closing her eyes. “You do know I almost never interact with other human beings of my own volition? My social circle is a very exclusive club, Annie.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…if I’m honest, I think you need someone.”

Edie glanced around her apartment. A pile of laundry was slowly devouring her floor. The couch had a growing pile of empty chip bags and juice boxes shoved desperately to one side of it, and whether her coffee table had the structural integrity to continue supporting the impressive miniature skyscrapers formed out of dishes that had piled up atop of it was anybody’s guess.

“Why would you think that? I’m a strong independent woman. I can take care of myself.”

She could almost hear her ex raising an eyebrow. “When’s the last time you showered?”

_Dangit._

“I’m showering tonight before my date,” Edie answered, flipping open her laptop.

Name: Edie Brock

Job: Reporter

Hobbies: When I’m not writing The Brock Report for the newspaper, I’m usually at home working out or watching videos about conspiracy theories or unsolved crimes.

Looking for: Anyone willing to put up with me. Look, I just need a date, I promised a friend that I’d try to put myself out there

“What date?”

Edie picked out a photo of herself in a green dress. The emerald tones complemented her blond hair, and in the background the clear sky brought out the blue in her eyes. “Um, her name iiiiiis…”

Scrolling furiously, she clicked on a profile showing an attractive dark-skinned woman wearing a flower print blouse. “Neckumdillum?”

Anne snorted. “What?”

“Look, I don’t know how to pronounce it. It’s spelled N-K-E-M-D-I-L-I-M. How would _you_ pronounce that?”

“Honestly, I’m surprised anyone actually contacted you with that profile of yours. Make sure you look up how to say her name before your date,” she pointed out.

Edie saluted, straightening her back. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I hope you have fun on your date, E. Bye!”

“Bye Annie!” Edie hung up and examined the profile she’d clicked on.

Name: Nkemdilim Jalloh

Job: Dental Hygienist

Hobbies: Taking goofy pictures of my dogs, watching romantic movies, knitting, crocheting, yes those two are different

Looking for: Someone who loves Beauty and the Beast stories almost as much as they love dogs

Edie bought two tickets online for a promising-looking movie at a nearby theater and typed out a message to the woman whose name’s pronunciation was currently a mystery.

Hi Nkemdilim! My name’s Edie. Got two tickets to The Shape of Water tonight and no one to go with. Are you interested?

After hitting send, she went to her closet. She would’ve picked out her green dress, but she’d ripped it after an incident involving a reluctant source, a chain link fence, and the climbing over of said fence which ended with a landing in a large thorn bush. At least she’d gotten a good story out of it, even if it wasn’t the one she’d been pursuing.

After some deliberation, Edie selected a sleeveless navy blue ensemble with an empire waist accented with a white ribbon. She dug out some pearl earrings and was hunting for the matching necklace when she heard a ding from her computer.

Hello Edie! It’s Nkemdilim. Sure, I’d love to go with you to the movie. I’ve heard a lot of good things about it but I never got the chance to see it. When does it start? I’ll meet you at the theatre.

Edie messaged her the time and went to take a shower. After putting on her dress, jewelry, and makeup, she stood back as from the mirror as much as the bathroom allowed her to in order to examine the effect.

 _I look good,_ she thought, proud of herself for resembling a functional human being. _I haven’t dressed up for a while. I wonder why?_

Grabbing her purse, Edie was about to walk out the door when she remembered.

_Oh right, I haven’t been wearing my nice clothes because the heels broke off my nice pumps._

Edie glanced down at her selection of shoes. One pair of fuzzy slippers, one pair of cowgirl boots, and one pair of sneakers. She considered her options.

_At least two of them are high heels- not like slippers were an option anyway._

She glanced at her phone. The movie was starting in ten minutes, and it took at least five to walk to the theater. She doubted five minutes would be enough to swing by the shoe store.

_Oh well. Hopefully Neckadillon just won’t look at my feet._

As she exited her apartment, she began typing into her phone.

“How to pronounce N-K-E-M-D-I-L-I-M…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could be working on the sequel to my published book, or the next spooky short story in my series of spooky short stories, but instead I'm over here in the symbrock trash bin.  
> Enjoy my garbage :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, here's more disaster lesbian Edie Brock.  
> An answer to a question nobody asked: yes, Anne being a policewoman and not a lawyer in this universe is relevant, kind of, idk I'm literally making this up as I go along.

“Bye Annie!”

Anne smiled and hit the hang up button on her phone. Dan glanced over her shoulder as he gave her a peck on the cheek.

“So do you think she actually has a date, or…?”

Anne shrugged, brushing a lock of stray hair behind her ear. She was considering getting it cut short, like Edie’s, but it had taken her a while to get her hair to this length and she wasn’t about to make any hasty decisions. “I don’t think she’d make up the whole Nkemdilim thing. Edie might not always be upfront, but if you press her she’ll usually tell the truth.”

Dan frowned. “Because she’s an honest person at heart, or because she’s not good at coming up with lies under pressure?”

“I’d like to think the former, but it’s probably a combination,” Anne admitted, fiddling with her ring. Dan noticed her fidgeting and put his hand on hers.

“You’re worried about her,” he noted.

“That obvious, huh? You jealous?”

He stuck out his lower lip, tilting his head. “You don’t worry about _me_ this much.”

They laughed, Dan slipping his arms around her waist and sneaking another brief kiss above her jaw. Anne slid her fingers in between his, her smile fading as they swayed gently.

“It’s just…I want her to be okay, you know? She might be an adult, but I can’t say that I’ve really ever seen her as a grown-up.”

Dan put his chin on her shoulder. “I think you need to have a little more faith in her, Anne. She’s spontaneous and kind of reckless, yeah, but she’s got a better head on her shoulders than you give her credit for, and her heart’s in the right place.”

Anne pressed her cheek to his, biting her lip.

“So should I cancel my weekly visits to her apartment?”

Dan moved around so that they stood face-to-face. “I did say a _little_ more faith, Anne. Maybe make it a biweekly thing instead.”

She wrinkled her nose. “So are you saying to visit her twice a week, or every other week?”

He reached up and smoothed her hair absentmindedly. “Never mind. Biweekly is a stupid word.”

Anne laughed and pressed her lips to his.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Edie saw Nkemdilim (apparently pronounced neh-kehm-dill-eem) standing in the theater lobby, buying popcorn at the snack counter. She looked good: her white sleeveless turtleneck made the warm brown tones of her skin almost glow. Her hair was pulled back into a neat bun, showing off her cheekbones, and her black skirt barely reached the tops of her knees, a modest length which was still more than sufficient to show off her long, _long_ legs.

Suddenly a lot more self-conscious than she had been ten seconds ago, Edie approached her date, trying desperately not to draw attention to her high-heeled cowgirl boots.

“Hey there! Nkemdilim?” she said, internally wincing as she did so. Her voice was too loud. Why did she always get louder when she felt awkward?

Nkemdilim gave Edie a double take, pausing and taking her in with those strikingly dark eyes. Edie resisted the urge to look down at her feet.

_Should I say something? I should probably say something. She smells nice. Should I compliment her perfume? What if that comes off as creepy? I mean, who walks up to their date and says, “Hey, you smell good?” Dang, my palms are sweaty. Why is she staring at me? Oh crap she’s probably seen my shoes…_

“Um, is something wrong?” she asked. By some miracle her tongue didn’t trip over itself.

Nkemdilim shook her head a little and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m not used to my name being pronounced correctly on the first try.”

“Oh, actually when I first saw your name I thought it was pronounced Neckumdillum.” _Crap why did I say that I’m probably being really rude why am I so sweaty-_

Her date laughed, crossing her arms. Edie noticed that she glanced down at the floor, but thankfully didn’t seem to notice Edie’s choice of footwear. “I’ve heard weirder interpretations, believe me. Anyway, I got some popcorn. Do you want me to get you anything, or…?”

Edie shook her head, partially indicating her refusal and partially in disbelief that her date hadn’t nope’d out of there when she saw the walking disaster she’d agreed to see a movie with. “Nah, I can pay for my own snacks.”

“You sure? It’s no trouble.”

“No, you don’t need to buy anything else. It’s the first date- let’s just go Dutch.”

Edie reached into her purse and mentally facepalmed. Her anguish must’ve shown on her face, because Nkemdilim looked at her with a concerned expression.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Edie waved her off. “It’s fine, I just forgot my wallet. Probably for the best- have you seen what they charge for a chocolate bar in this place? Actually, I don’t think I forgot my wallet- it must’ve caught wind I was gonna buy snacks at the theater and jumped ship while it could.”

Nkemdilim reached over and picked up her tub of popcorn from off the counter. “Well, if you need to nibble on something during the movie, I can share my popcorn.”

Edie laughed nervously. “You should probably rescind that offer- my popcorn never lasts past the trailers.”

Nkemdilim shrugged. “I’ve been trying to lose weight anyway. My waistline will thank you for getting rid of the temptation.”

Edie’s eyes ran up and down her date’s lean figure. “Uh-huh. Do you have a bridge you want to sell me too?”

She laughed again, and Edie felt her heart jump a little. Dang, she was pretty.

“You’re sweet,” she commented, putting a hand on Edie’s shoulder.

Edie grinned cheekily, hoping her blush wasn’t too obvious. “No, I’m Edie. You forget my name already?”

Nkemdilim raised her nicely-shaped eyebrows. “Cute, thrifty, and a thing for bad jokes? I think I struck gold.”

It was no use hoping that her blush was subtle now- Edie’s face was tomato-red.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They weren’t alone anymore.

Each time, a person was thrown in, too quickly for them to even consider escape. Each time, they tried to reach out, tried to comfort, tried to make the people understand that they didn’t want to hurt, they wouldn’t harm on purpose, they just wanted someone to _understand-_

None of them understood.

None of the people were in good shape when they were sealed in the vault. They’d tried to help. They’d tried to heal each person in turn, but they couldn’t. Even the few that were compatible enough to be rudimentary vessels ended up dying. They could’ve kept them from dying longer if the people hadn’t pushed them away, but none of the people wanted anything to do with them.

They weren’t wanted by anyone.

Sometimes they caught glimpses of the outside world through their attempts to bond. Flashes of color, subtle scents, texture and taste- memories that weren’t theirs, taunting them, mocking them, reminding them what they could never have.

In some twisted way, they began looking forward to the times newcomers were forced into the vault. Stolen memories were naturally far inferior to actual experience, but the shadows of others’ pasts were the only foreseeable comfort in their future.

The worst part was when the people died. It wasn’t their fault- they had tried to keep them alive, and for their efforts they were pushed away, refused, again and again and again.

It wasn’t their fault the people were dying. Feeling guilt over such things was pointless.

But then again, perhaps trying to keep anyone else alive was pointless, too. And they kept trying.

Hoping was pointless as well, so they restrained themselves from that waste of energy, at least. Occasionally they would allow themselves to indulge, just a bit, and _wish-_ wish they wouldn’t be pushed away, wish they could help for once, wish they didn’t cling to life so desperately, because life required life to live. Life consumed life. That was the way of things. There was no rejecting it, any more than rejecting death.

Sometimes, when submerging themselves in the memories of a person, a thought would poke through from the person in question. Most of the time it was a reaction to _them_ being there ( _get away leave me alone I don’t want to die_ ) but occasionally it was an observation related to the memory itself.

That night, the man with whom they had shared this space with for the last two days finally fell asleep. He had refused to rest in _their_ presence at first, and any and all attempts to reach out to him were merely greeted with heightened panic and a greater anxiety than before. After the first twelve hours, they’d decided it was more prudent to leave him alone.

Now, he slept. It was clear that pure exhaustion was the only contributor to this- even in slumber, they could feel the creases pressed deep in his forehead, smell the stress in his beading sweat. They hesitated, not wanting him to wake to find them in his head, but the promise of a brief escape from their prison was too much. They succumbed, burying themselves in the depths of their fearful companion’s psyche.

**Sunny.**

**It’s sunny out today.**

**Grandma loved sunny days. She would sit in her rocking chair and watch the street from her porch. She would say hello to the bikers, and the newspaper boy, and the little girls drawing with chalk.**

**It’s not fair.**

**Grandma should be able to enjoy this day. She should be sitting on the porch, not lying in a box.**

**Her gravestone doesn’t have moss on it like the others. It isn’t cracked or weathered. It almost looks the same as when I was last here, except there’s a sprout growing on the grave.**

_Poetic, really._

They froze, waiting for him to realize they were there, bracing themselves for him to scream and yell and panic. Bracing themselves to be thrown out, rejected.

Again.

He didn’t notice them. His thought was faint, and quiet. If they had put a voice to it, it would’ve sounded like he was talking in his sleep.

_Out of death, life begins, and thrives, and dies. An endless cycle. Something I would never have thought of as a child,_ he mused.

They waited a heartbeat longer. He fell silent, and they withdrew. They clung to the lingering sensations of sun on their skin, the smell of the grass, the noise of birds squabbling in the trees above.

He hadn’t woken, so they could’ve stayed longer. They could have lost themselves slowly in tides of memories pulling out towards pasts foreign and half-forgotten, could have shut themselves off from thinking at all and just indulged in the pure, sweet simplicity of _feeling_.

But the longer they buried themselves in someone else’s mind, the more vivid reality became each time they emerged. Which might not have been a problem, in another world: a world where they could hide themselves away, fade into a person until they became indistinguishable from every other passing thought crawling through a brain, and sleep and sleep until death finally conquered what little life was still in them.

In this world, however, people woke up. People awoke, and panicked, and pushed them away, and died, leaving them alone with ghosts of lives that weren’t theirs.

Each time, they could feel a bit of themselves surrender to the inevitable.

They didn’t want to die. That was foolish, of course- what was the point of wanting something when they clearly lacked the means to do anything about it? Yet they were fully able to put it off, to delay their demise.

The means of how they accomplished this, however, they nearly hated more than the idea of dying.

**Out of death, life.**

Except this was hardly their beginning, and they were far from thriving. No, they were a ghost, just as much as the memories they indulged in, a pathetic shadow using what they could to extend their pointless existence.

The people tasted miserable. It wasn’t that their flesh was unappetizing, exactly- it was similar to the flavor of a human food called ‘pork,’ if their snatches of the outside world were correct- but the people’s fear and pain and helplessness were always firmly imprinted on the brains they consumed, at least by the time they finally gave in and ingested them.

Piece by piece, the collective misery of the humans was picking away at them, degrading their will to live.

They should’ve been bothered by this. Part of them was, of course. Letting go of life was contrary to the basest instincts of anything that lived, and they were no exception. Their grip on life was weak from starvation, and being weakened further each time they attempted futilely to bond, but it was a determined grip all the same- unyielding, uncompromising, unwilling to release.

They did not loosen their grip by choice, not directly. They did choose to keep reaching out, keep trying to find a host, and their potential wielders kept rejecting them, which in turn scarred them with rejection and bruised their resolve.

So it was that another part of them welcomed the idea of death. Another, rebellious, ridiculous, contrary bit of them urged them to let go of their foolish will to keep living. What did they hope to strive for with their continued existence? What was the point in forcing themselves to keep going? Instinct demanded that they survive, that they preserve themselves, and presented them with many methods of doing so. Instinct prodded them to fight, to devour, to detach themselves: in these areas they had ignored instinct with a stubbornness that graced the border between admirable and insane. Instinct told them not to die: why shouldn’t they push their stubbornness further, let themselves slip into whatever oblivion lay beyond the end of their time and spite their instinct yet again?

The man was gone now. How long had he been gone? How long ago had they downed the last of his remains? Had they even waited until he was dead?

It was far too disconcerting to realize they didn’t know.

They could feel him- a ghost in their system, a faded imprint whispering in the darkness that enclosed them. Gone, and yet unmistakably there. Pain and helplessness and fear, written again and again in the mind that they’d absorbed, echoing back to them from somewhere in their subconscious they couldn’t quite reach.

**Out of death, life. Beginning, thriving, dying.**

**Dying.**

**Again and again.**

**Againandagainandagainandagainandagainand-**

They forced themselves to stop thinking. It was too loud, too much, constantly pushing, threads of obsession weaving through the fabric of their being. They needed quiet.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

Their thoughts were too loud, but they wouldn’t have minded noise.

**Alone.**

**Someone, please talk to me.**

**Someone, please understand me.**

**Someone, please drown out my thoughts.**

**Someone, please.**

**Please.**

**_Please._ **

They realized that their emotions were stronger than usual. Their loneliness had intensified, compressing itself into something dull and sharp all at once.

_Please-_

_Somebody-_

_Save me-_

_Dying-_

Vague impressions of the last feelings their rejected hosts had possessed just before their deaths, pressing in on their brain, crushing their mental state with a despairing, unanimous cry of _alone._

They would’ve laughed, had they the energy. They were far from alone in being alone, at least.

At this point, it seemed to be the closest to company they were going to get.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“So, Nkemdilim-”

Edie’s date smiled, plucking at the collar of her turtleneck. “You can just call me Kim, if you like. I know my name can be a bit of a mouthful.”

Edie paused, considering. “Kim…huh, sounds kinda ordinary. Not that there’s anything wrong with Kim, but Nkemdilim’s a beautiful name, if you can wrap your tongue around it.”

Nkemdilim/Kim shrugged. It was a weirdly fascinating movement, Edie thought- her head tilted down slightly as her shoulder moved toward her ear.

_Hm- does everyone shrug that way? I’ve never noticed before. What does Annie look like when she shrugs, again?_

A memory of Anne laughing, one eyebrow raised, her shoulders lifting simultaneously as she did that little head toss that always gave Edie a warm feeling.

Guilt pooled in Edie’s stomach. She was on a date- she shouldn’t be dwelling on her exes, especially not her ex who was in a happy and committed relationship with a great guy, especially not when she was miraculously, somehow, still on good terms with her ex and actually friends with said ex’s boyfriend/fiancé, and going to be maid of honor at their wedding.

Crap. What had she been thinking about? Crap, crap, crap, Nkemdilim (or Kim- Kim would be easier to say, definitely, but Nkemdilim was more memorable) was talking about something and Edie hadn’t been paying attention to a single word because she had been obsessing over Anne, and now she was missing what Kim? was saying because she was freaking out about obsessing over Anne and she was such a mess why couldn’t she get her brain to _shut up-_

“Edie? Are you okay?”

She blinked, suddenly seeing Kim staring at her concernedly. “Oh. Um, I’m sorry, I just-” She ran her fingers through her hair, sighing. “I-I’m sorry, really, it’s just been a while since I’ve been out on a date. And by a while I mean that this has been the first date I’ve been on since I broke up with my girlfriend, and I’m worried I’m going to screw this up, and I’m probably making this awkward and talking too much, and I…I’m just gonna shut up now,” she finished, fiddling with the beads of her necklace.

Kim, bless her, did not show a single sign on her face that things had gotten awkward at all. Instead, she nodded understandingly, her expression sympathetic but not pitying. “Human interaction is difficult. The majority of the time I prefer the company of dogs to humans: if dogs judge you, they can’t vocalize it.”

Edie grinned, glad that her continued idiocy hadn’t turned everything into a colossal train wreck yet. “Dogs are awesome. Honestly, though, I do a lot of stupid stuff, so I’m pretty sure anything and everything is judging me at any given moment whether they say so or not.”

Kim grinned back and pointed at a bin nearby. “That trash can is most definitely judging you right now.”

“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure that that hanging plant is giving me the stink eye.”

“Don’t look up, but I think the chandelier is mentally critiquing you.”

Edie hadn’t realized that she was smiling stupidly until she saw the exact mirror of her expression on Nkemdilim’s face. It was nice- grinning like idiots in the middle of the theater lobby, stretching out a ridiculous joke that should not have been funny at all but somehow was.

It was the sort of thing she would do with Dan when she hung out with him and Anne, while Anne would roll her eyes but smile right along with both of them.

Aaaaand she was thinking about Anne again. Dangit.

Edie gestured to the theater door, trying not to look distracted. “Hey, is there anyplace else you want to go tonight?”

Her date paused, considering. “There’s a pretty spot out by the forest. It’s a bit of a walk, but we could always call a taxi. If you’re interested, of course.”

“I’m game, but before you call that taxi, I’d like to tell you I am in possession of a motorcycle and two helmets.”

Kim’s eyes widened, her expression genuinely surprised and impressed. It was pretty cute. “You have a motorcycle?”

The blonde grinned. “Yep. Congratulations, you have learned about the only cool thing I own.”

Nkemdilim pouted exaggeratedly. “That’s too bad. I was hoping you had a leather jacket too.”

“Nope, it’s pleather. Also, it has ‘Drama Queen’ on the back in hot pink letters, which may downgrade the ‘cool’ factor slightly.”

“But it ups the fabulousness factor to compensate, right?”

Edie beamed. “How are you still single?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

One six-minute walk to the apartment later, Edie was driving her motorcycle with Kim’s arms clasped around her waist. (In hindsight, riding her bike while wearing a dress was not the brightest idea. At least she had put on her pleather jacket beforehand.) It was a short ride- the ‘pretty spot’ Kim had in mind was at the edge of town, which only took another six minutes or so to reach on the motorcycle.

“Our destination, milady,” Edie announced, dismounting carefully and offering a hand to her date to help her off the bike.

Kim smiled and grasped Edie’s hand, not letting go as she stepped down. “So, what do you think?”

Edie glanced up at their surroundings. It _was_ nice: a little clearing half-surrounded by trees, with a single weeping willow near the center of it, overlooking the nearby pond. However, one little detail threw her off a little.

“Is this a graveyard?” she asked warily, eyeing the carved stones dotted about.

Nkemdilim nodded. “Yeah. My grandma’s actually buried here.”

Edie shifted uncomfortably. “Okaaaay…did you want to visit her grave, or…?”

The taller woman shook her head. “No, there’s something else I want you to see.”

Kim led her underneath the branches of the willow, showing her a log lying on its side next to the trunk. Releasing Edie’s hand, her date sat down on the log and gestured for Edie to sit next to her. Edie sat, still mildly concerned about Kim’s choice of location.

_Does she bring all her dates to graveyards? Or does she just bring them to this particular one? Holy crap, what if she’s secretly a serial killer and this graveyard is where she puts her victims?_

_Don’t be stupid, Edith,_ she scolded herself. _It’s not like she brought me out here to a secluded spot so she could stab me without anyone seeing. Although if someone passed by, they wouldn’t see me behind these branches OH FISH STICKS SHE IS A SERIAL KILLER I’VE GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE-_

She jumped as Nkemdilim gently placed her hand over hers. “You okay? You seem tense.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. So, um, what did you want to show me, again?” _Please don’t kill me._

Kim pointed with her free hand towards the pond. Despite the branches, Edie had a surprisingly clear view of the scenery- the reflection of moonlight shimmering on the still water, the tall grass colored almost black by the shadows of nighttime. There was a word that she’d have used to describe it, if she could remember what the word was.

“It should happen any minute now,” Nkemdilim remarked, knocking Edie out of her thoughts.

“What should happe- oh.”

The pond lit up with streaks of white light, thin and gleaming, stitched throughout the water like threads of silver in dark silk. It glowed so brightly that the stars seemed to vanish, turning the sky into a colorless backdrop for the lights below.

_Serene,_ Edie recalled suddenly. _It looks so serene._

Except the glowing streaks now effusing the water made her think more Selene than serene. If there was a goddess of moonlight, she could’ve looked like what they were beholding- an ethereal tapestry that lit up the night, shining purer than any flame or lightbulb.

Edie smiled to herself. _I’d totally date a glowing blob goddess._

The lights lingered for another few heartbeats, then vanished, leaving no indication that anything of note had just happened. Edie let out a breath that she didn’t realized she’d been holding.

“That was amazing,” was all she could think to say.

Kim’s expression showed her agreement. “It’s beautiful. I’ve been keeping track of when it happens, so if I have time, I try to be here when it does.”

“Wait…so the lake puts on this light show regularly? How come this isn’t on the news or something?”

Nkemdilim shrugged. “It’s actually not that unique. Instances of bioluminescence in nature have been recorded since Aristotle. From what I know, this is probably a combination of chemical factors and a particular type of algae.”

“Huh. Are you a closeted aquatic life geek? Don’t worry, I won’t tell your secret,” Edie teased.

“Ha! No. The first time I saw it I Googled ‘glowy stuff in water.’ My knowledge of the subject extends as far as what Wikipedia tells me,” Kim assured her.

The blonde smiled again, this time looking up at her companion. “Hey, thanks for showing me this.”

“Well, I don’t really have a lot of people to share this with, unless you count my dogs. Thanks for coming out with me.”

They sat there for a bit, staring out over the water.

“It is really pretty out here, even without all the glowy pond scum or whatever,” Edie commented.

Nkemdilim’s gaze flitted over to the one sitting next to her. “Yeah, it’s a really nice view.”

Edie smirked as they made eye contact. “You putting moves on me, Kim?”

The one addressed tilted her head, closing the distance between them. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

Then there were warm hands cupping Edie’s face, and eyelashes brushing her cheek, and the scent of Kim’s perfume everywhere, and-

It felt _wrong._

It was nice, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew it just wasn’t _right,_ she didn’t want this, she wanted- she wanted-

What the heck did she even want, anyway?

Edie didn’t realize there were tears on her face until the cold air hit her skin. At the same time, she saw Kim sitting upright, backing away, a look of alarm on her face.

“Oh no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- I wasn’t trying to-”

Edie shook her head vehemently, wiping her eyes. “No, it’s not you. It’s just…I’m sorry. I think I have some stuff to work out.”

Nkemdilim nodded, still a little concerned. “I’m sorry if I was too forward. I just thought…well…”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time?” she offered. “Don’t worry about it. I thought it seemed like a _great_ idea, but apparently my emotions don’t agree with my brain. Or my brain doesn’t agree with my emotions, or whatever.”

The taller woman fidgeted. “Yeah…um, I guess I should head home. It was a nice date, and all, but my dogs probably miss me, and you probably want some alone time, and…”

Edie bobbed her head in assent. “Thanks for understanding. If it’s not too awkward, could we hang out again sometime? Like, on a friend date, not a date-date.”

Nkemdilim perked up. “That sounds nice. Would you like to come over and meet my dogs?”

“Um, heck to the yes. If one of them goes missing afterwards, you know where to find me. Hey, do you need a ride home?”

“Nah, I took a taxi here, I’ll take a taxi home. It was nice meeting you, Edie.” She paused. “Do you have a pen?”

Edie dug a pen out of her purse and handed it to her. Kim took Edie’s proffered hand as well, scribbling something on the back of it before returning the pen. “Give me a call sometime. We can set up that friend-date.”

Edie waved goodbye as Nkemdilim walked off. She didn’t get up right away- instead, she sat there and pondered what the heck was wrong with herself.

_She was beautiful, smart, funny, and she actually liked me. Did I really just friendzone her on our first date? Am I really having that much trouble getting over Anne?_

_No, I’m not. Not really. Yeah, there are still some feelings there, but I don’t want Anne back. She and Dan are happy, and I’m starting to like being friends with her more than dating her. So why the heck did I do…whatever I just did?_

_It just wasn’t right,_ a tiny part of her explained. _Kim was nice, but she wasn’t right for me, not in that way. She’s not what I’m looking for._

_And what am I looking for?_ Edie shot back. _I’ve got friends, and I can make friends, so what’s missing? What else am I looking for?_

_You’ll know,_ that bit of her replied. _When you find it, you’ll know._

Edie crossed her arms and groused, “Well, that tells me nothing, but okay.”

_Hey, I’m just you talking to you. How am I supposed to tell you something you don’t know? Anyway, it’s late. Go home. Get some sleep instead of watching conspiracy theories until three a.m. and maybe you’ll actually be awake in the morning when Anne calls you._

Edie got up, brushing aside the curtain of weeping willow leaves as she went to her motorcycle. “Good advice, me. Let’s see if I actually follow it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ride a motorcycle in a dress. Ever. Edie might be okay with the risk of crashing and getting all her skin flayed off by asphalt, but she really shouldn't be. Also she shouldn't have let Nkemdilim ride with her when she was also in a skirt, bad Edie, inform your date about proper motorcycle attire before taking them for a spin on your motorized vehicle.  
> Who wants to take a guess on whether Edie will follow her own advice? The answer may surprise you! (it probably won't)  
> If I worked on the sequel to my book this regularly it would probably be finished by now ^.^'


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not relevant to this chapter, but I wanted to confirm that yes, Edie did stay up until three a.m. watching conspiracy theory videos after her date with Kim, and no, she was not awake when Anne called her the next morning.

“In other news, there may be a new lead on the disappearance of Maria Lake. While Ms. Lake was known to lack a permanent residence, traffic cameras have recorded images of a woman matching her description frequenting the Life Foundation headquarters. While CEO Carlton Drake has denied any interaction between his company and the missing woman, some have speculated that Ms. Lake may have signed on to participate in one of the Life Foundation’s alleged extralegal experiments.”

Dan frowned a little at the picture they showed onscreen as the news anchor droned on. The photo showed the back of a woman’s head, hair that was visibly disheveled even with the poor quality of the picture, and a ragged shawl draped over shoulders that looked far too fragile to support even the slight weight of the cloth over them.

His attention was arrested by a loud meow from a familiar gray lump of striped fur that had decided to plant itself on his foot. He smiled and leaned down to give it a scritch behind the ears. “Hey, Mr. Belvedere. Didn’t Anne already feed you today?”

“I did. Don’t let him deceive you,” Anne’s voice warned him from the kitchen.

Dan scooped the cat up in his arms, whereupon the feline purred and settled around his shoulders. Anne walked into the room and laughed.

“Honestly, you’re more of a cat person than me and Edie combined.”

“Edie never really struck me as a cat person,” Dan commented, still rubbing the fur on the cat’s neck.

“Oh, she loves cats- it’s just that Mr. Belvedere has been waging a passive-aggressive war on her ever since they first met. Lately Edie’s been staying out of his line of sight if possible or just giving him a very wide berth if not. He isn’t quite as focused on hating her when you’re around to love him up, though,” Anne explained.

“Is that why she flinched that time you asked her cat-sit?”

“I think she’s still hiding some scratches on her legs. To be fair, I wouldn’t have inflicted that on her if I’d thought she couldn’t handle it, but I’m starting to wonder if maybe that weekend vacation we went on was a couple days too long for her to be alone with Mr. Belvedere.”

Dan glanced disbelievingly at the content pile of fluff looped around his shoulders. “Huh. Here I was thinking he was remarkably good-tempered for a cat.”

Anne tapped her temple. “He hides many secrets. Don’t let your guard down.”

Dan’s smile faded as he looked back at the TV screen, where the photo was still being displayed. “Is it true there’s another lead on the Lake case?”

Anne sighed. “Technically. I can’t really tell you anything more than what the news is showing, though- those pictures are pretty much all we’ve got.”

Her fiancé crossed his arms. “Also, ‘extralegal experiments?’ I’m pretty sure the more appropriate word would be ‘illegal,’ plain and simple. The Life Foundation isn’t above the law.”

“Well, if you want to keep your job, you don’t accuse the Life Foundation of straight-up breaking the law, even indirectly. Drake’s got an army of lawyers that could probably take the President to court,” she pointed out.

“If you were a lawyer, I bet you could’ve taken them on yourself.”

“Heh, yeah. As it is, just looking for evidence of ‘extralegal experiments’ within a mile of Drake would get me demoted to meter maid in the time it would take to ride the elevator to the top of the Life Foundation building. But there’s still a chance to link them to Maria’s disappearance.”

Dan blinked, suddenly apprehensive. “Wait…Carlton Drake. He’s not the one Edie’s interviewing today for the Brock Report, is he?”

Anne straightened, eyes wild. “Edie’s WHAT?”

“I mean…yesterday she sent me a text about some interview she had this afternoon, but I don’t remember if it’s Drake for sure. And even if it is him, she wouldn’t necessarily bring up the accusations during a live interview with him on TV…” he trailed off, considering his words.

The blonde ran her fingers through her long hair, massaging her temples as she paced back and forth. “What time did she say the interview was?”

Dan checked his phone, scrolling through the conversation as he hunted for that specific piece of information.

ED: Yo Dan my man, how’s life?

Dan: I’m managing. Some guy in pediatrics told me about this kid who shoved a lip gloss tube in her ear.

ED: How the heck does that happen?

Dan: Not sure. I’ll ask him later. How are you?

ED: I’m pretending to be a functional adult. Hoping to fake it til I make it.

Dan: Aren’t we all?

ED: Yeah, but you’ve actually made it. You’ve got a steady job, a nice apartment, a smokin hot fiancé, the works!

ED: Not that I’m jealous

ED: (I kind of am)

Dan: You’re not doing too badly yourself. Aren’t you gonna be in some exclusive TV special?

ED: My boss is throwing me into some interview with this Life Foundation prick

ED: His name’s Carlton Drake

ED: But I know him as ‘rich CEO guy with no morals #568732

Dan: When’s the interview?

ED: Tomorrow, actually

Dan: Do you need Anne to call you early to make sure you’re up in time?

ED: Nah, it’s at like 3 in the afternoon. Thanks for checking tho

Dan: Are you going to stay out of trouble this time?

ED: I’m going to do my job

Dan: While staying out of trouble?

ED: Maaaaaybe

Dan: Seriously though, behave

Dan: Anne talks about this guy sometimes

Dan: He is NOT someone you mess with

Dan: He has a whole corporation backing him

ED: I have you and Anne. Dude doesn’t stand a chance

Dan: Edie, please

ED: I’m pretending to be a functional adult here. I can make my own choices

Dan: Do not make this guy mad, Edie

Dan: Please, I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.

ED: There are a lot of things I’ve done that I regret

ED: But pissing off some millionaire with no regard for human life will not be one of them

Dan’s phone chimed, alerting him to a new message. “Hold on, she just sent me something.”

Anne groaned, reading her watch. “Please tell me it’s a text saying the interview’s been canceled or delayed or something.”

He bit his lip, holding up the message so Anne could read it. “Not exactly…”

ED: Danny boy, just wanted to let you know if Drake assassinates me after this interview or something, it’s been an honor

ED: Tell Anne she’s lucky to have you

ED: Also, you’re lucky to have Anne

ED: You’re gonna be awesome together

ED: And even if I can’t be maid of honor my ghost will still come to your wedding

ED: And possess your maid of honor

ED: I already have a speech planned out and everything, not about to let it go to waste

ED: Anyway

ED: Thanks for putting up with me

ED: And my crappy sense of self-preservation

ED: I should’ve probably texted Anne too, huh

ED: Well, whatever, gtg

Anne sighed again. “Guess talking her out of it’s not an option now.”

“Probably. Do you want to watch the interview?” Dan offered.

She gave him a half-smile. “Yes, but I’m afraid of straining my eyes from rolling them too hard. Tell me how it goes, okay?”

He sneaked a peck on her cheek. “Hey, it might not be that bad. You know Edie can be dramatic.”

Anne stole Mr. Belvedere from around her fiancé’s shoulders, rubbing the cat’s head as he purred contentedly. “Yeah, but just because she’s dramatic doesn’t mean she isn’t serious.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Edie wasn’t stupid.

She was well aware that the smart thing to do during the interview would be to ask a few science-y questions, discuss the projects that the Foundation _wanted_ to draw attention to, and steer clear of any subject that might draw Drake’s ire.

However, whether she was going to actually do the smart thing was still a bit up in the air. So even if she wasn’t stupid, that didn’t necessarily make her smart.

She’d seen Carlton Drake before. His picture had been gracing pretty much every scientific magazine in existence lately, plus a couple newspapers, so it’d be difficult for anyone working with the media to not know what the man looked like. Still, seeing him in person was kind of surprising.

For one thing, he looked… _tired_. People like Drake didn’t _look_ tired, not during an interview. They would present themselves as enthusiastic, friendly, engaging, sympathetic, empathetic, victimized, but never tired. Tired was not on the list of acceptable personas to adopt when you were an evil CEO trying to appear as a benevolent god in the public eye.

Next, he seemed disinterested. Showing disinterest was another definite no-no for people like him- rule #2 of being a psychopathic money-grubber thriving off the suffering of others was ‘always pretend you care.’ (Rule #1, of course, was ‘always make a profit, even if you ruin everyone else’s lives in the process.’)

Finally, although he was wearing the traditional ‘I’m just a nice guy who happens to be rich’ smile typical of company millionaires who tried to make themselves relatable to cover up the fact that they were actually mean guys who happened to be rich, his mask slipped briefly when he saw Edie. For a moment, Edie could read his expression loud and clear.

He was confused.

“…Eddie Brock?” he asked hesitantly.

Suddenly his confusion made sense. Edie tried not to smirk as she explained.

“It’s actually Edie Brock, Mr. Drake. Short for Edith.”

He nodded, all traces that showed he was capable of being caught off-guard vanishing immediately. “Ah, I apologize. I wasn’t expecting my three o’ clock to be so…”

“Feminine?”

Drake smiled accommodatingly. “If I’m completely honest, I was rather expecting a bodybuilder with a microphone to show up and start beating answers out of me. I’m not a regular reader of the Brock Report, but from what I’ve seen, your style of writing is very…forceful. Direct and to the point.”

“Huh. So getting straight to the interview would be something you’d expect from me, right?”

His smile was genuine this time, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Let’s begin, then.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_It’s so cold. I’m scared. Please, someone-_

_Is anyone there? Is anyone coming?_

_I’m going to die here. I’m going to die here and no one will know._

_No, no, no, I can’t die here. I can’t die yet. It’s not my time, it’s not enough time, it isn’t fair!_

_I’m sorry. I’m so sorry._

_Please, please, let someone come. I don’t want to die here._

_Let me die already. Just let me die._

They woke.

The voices never quite went away, but it was harder to hear the constant whispering when they were awake. Differentiating the voices from white noise required a lot of concentration when they were conscious. Picking out an individual voice called for nothing less than their undivided attention.

It wasn’t as if there was much to divide their attention anyway.

In their dreams, the people were louder, more coherent, more present. Echoes of last thoughts would stretch themselves into an entire history: a childhood, a career, a _life,_ which would finally condense to a single identity.

Another ghost to haunt their mind.

In their dreams, it was crowded. Person after person after person, always talking, frantically clinging to existence before they faded into a mindless voice again. Impressions and feelings coming into sharp focus as they fought to keep themselves from being overwhelmed. The press of dozens of minds, fighting to stay aware, straining to remember everything lost, struggling not to fade, to disappear forever.

They hated waking up.

It was always too quiet when they woke up. No one was there, nothing was there. The faint voices poking around the back of their mind barely broke the silence in comparison to the cacophony during their slumber.

They didn’t particularly like all the noise when they were trying to sleep. Sleep didn’t come naturally to them, after all- it was a resting state they’d learned to imitate from hosts. It conserved energy, but staying asleep was difficult. They weren’t meant to rest, and the noise just made it more difficult to. It was too much activity taking up their brain, too many thoughts and fears and hopes and worries occupying the space in their mind.

But without the noise, they were alone.

Sometimes they wondered what would happen when the noise went away.

Because it was going away, bit by bit. The ghosts would grip life with everything that was left of them, but that wasn’t much. The imprints made by past lives would erode with time, and dissolve, and vanish. They themselves might remember the person, but the person’s memories, emotions, everything that made up that particular identity would finally go the way of the flesh and die.

One advantage of this was that all the new voices, crying out and fading and dying over and over, blocked out _Him._ They’d chosen to count this as an advantage, even if they weren’t sure if they missed Him or hated Him. It was getting harder to tell: their own memories took too much effort to bother summoning.

The flip side to this was that since He had been well and truly buried, washed away by the flood of fresh hosts and memories and feelings, even He wouldn’t be there when the voices were gone. The ghosts were leaving, and He was one of them now.

**Good,** they told themselves. **Good. I don’t want Him.**

They told themselves anything would be better than going back to Him, including dying alone and unwanted in this vault with not even the imprints of failed hosts for company. They told themselves that and tried to believe it, because if going back to Him was truly the better option, then was it really worth living?

No. It had to be worth living. It had to be worth it. All those people couldn’t have died in vain. They fed on the dead for a reason. They had a purpose. It wasn’t pointless to keep fighting. It couldn’t be.

It was getting much quieter in their dreams. Less noise. It was easier to sleep now.

They hated it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The interview had gone well so far. Edie could’ve probably wrapped it up there. She could’ve shaken Drake’s hand, gone home, and called Nkemdilim to see when Edie could visit her and her dogs.

_I can still go home and call Kim after this, and I didn’t really want to shake his hand that much,_ she decided as the question flew out of her mouth.

“What do you have to say about the disappearance of Maria Lake?”

Drake paused, but she got the impression it wasn’t because the question had taken him aback. His eyes narrowed, and she could almost see the gears turning in his head as he reassessed the bold little reporter smiling up at him.

“I hope that whatever has happened to Ms. Lake will be cleared up soon, but I’m not entirely sure how my opinion on this matter relates to the interview.”

Edie flipped through her notes, selecting a bookmarked page. “Recently it’s come forward that Maria was seen visiting the Life Foundation prior to her disappearance.”

“Well, correlation is hardly causation, Ms. Brock-” Drake began.

“So you admit that Maria Lake was, in fact, visiting the Life Foundation?”

Edie could tell he was suppressing his irritation, though it was anybody's guess whether his anger was directed at himself, for his slip of the tongue, or at her, for obvious reasons.

“I was simply stating that even if Ms. Lake had been visiting our building, which is _not_ the case, it would not necessarily mean that the Life Foundation would have been related to her disappearance.”

“Hm.” Edie flipped to the other side of the page she’d bookmarked. “What I find interesting, personally, is that the images of Maria found by the police were from the traffic cameras. Only the traffic cameras. Now, Mr. Drake, you remember we discussed your top-notch security system earlier? The one with state-of-the-art cameras?”

Judging from the expression on his face, he did remember, and probably regretted discussing it.

“Now, I understand that the footage on those cameras is the property of your company. However, if the footage on those cameras is involved in a police investigation, aren’t you legally obligated to turn that footage over to the authorities?”

“There is no proof that the Life Foundation is connected to Ms. Lake. The traffic camera photos you speak of may not actually show Ms. Lake at all. There is no confirmation for any of your accusations,” Drake snapped.

“Accusations? What accusations? I was simply saying that since your company has the footage of the woman who may-or-may-not-be Maria Lake, and you were questioned on the point of her location before her disappearance, it would clear up a lot if you simply turned that footage over to the police,” she suggested innocently.

Drake smiled. It was almost unnerving how quickly his face went from ‘I’m going to kill this woman’ to ‘I’m going to hire an assassin to kill this woman, but right now I need to be polite and friendly and not look like I’m about to hire an assassin.’

“I’m sorry, but it looks like your allotted time is up. I’m sure my legal team can answer any further questions you may have on this subject,” he stated flatly, making a gesture to indicate that they should stop recording. The camera guy took the hint and backed off. Edie didn’t. 

“I don’t have any further questions, Mr. Drake. I’m telling you that I know why Maria Lake disappeared, and you know too.”

With the camera off, Drake didn’t bother trying to mask his irritation. “You’re done, Brock. You’re trying to bluff your way to answers you can’t get. You can’t prove anything.”

Edie felt bad for the camera guy. The poor dude was standing in the elevator, holding the doors for her as he watched her trade barbs with the extremely powerful CEO standing less than ten feet away. Deciding to put Camera Guy out of his misery, she ducked into the elevator, letting him release the doors. Before they closed, she managed to shoot off one last smart remark.

“What makes you so sure I don’t have proof?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Carlton Drake wasn’t the type to fall for the taunts of some muckraker trying to get a rise out of him. At least that’s what he’d have liked to think.

He blamed it on overwork. Too much happening, all at once. Lack of sleep and excess of activity was making him sloppy. He needed a nap.

“Sir?” came a voice from behind him.

He stifled a sigh. Had to keep up appearances, especially after losing his temper in front of that reporter. “Yes?”

“Variables 6, 10 and 12 are no longer viable.”

“Well, take their remains to our other lab- figure out where we went wrong.”

“Sir, there are no remains.”

He turned around, facing the subordinate who had been saddled with the job of reporting to him. “What do you mean, there are no remains? Did their corpses magically vanish?”

“We believe that the subjects absorbed them completely.”

Carlton remembered an anger management technique they had taught in elementary school. Take a deep breath, then count to ten. If you were still angry by the time you reached ten, keep counting.

_1, 2, 3, 4…_

“Have we gleaned any further data from the subjects?”

“They appear to be able to consume every element of a substance given and convert it to energy without leaving waste,” the subordinate offered.

“In other words, we can’t study what they leave behind, because they literally don’t give a crap,” Drake muttered. Aloud, he added, “Is there anything else?”

“Mr. Pullman has declined your latest offer. He says that you’re welcome to continue attending the ceremonies, but ‘to pursue monetary gain out of this venture would be folly, and a grave sacrilege.’ His words, sir.”

_35, 36, 37, 38…_

Carlton turned around, facing the clear glass wall of his office that gave him a clear view of the city. The view was pleasant enough, but it also offered perspective, something that Mr. Pullman evidently lacked. Still, helpful obliviousness was preferable to damaging intelligence any day in his eyes. And while on the subject of damaging intelligence…

“Tell him I have another sacrifice in mind.”

The subordinate shifted uncomfortably. “Mr. Pullman said to tell you that ‘flesh tainted by the poisons of your procedures’ is not considered an acceptable sacrifice. Again, his words, sir.”

Drake snorted. “Tell Mr. Pullman that we would hardly offer up valuable test subjects as mere meat for his ‘god.’”

“Who did you have in mind, sir?”

Carlton looked down on the city. It was funny, seeing people scurry about the streets as if they had something actually important to do. They didn’t matter in the big picture, yet they were more than capable of getting in the way.

He was above falling for the empty threats of petty little reporters. But there certainly wasn’t any harm in ensuring that those threats really were empty.

“Edie Brock.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuuuuun  
> Bonus points to anyone who knows who 'He' is. 'He' won't be showing up in the story, btw, but 'He' was a huge part of their life and I feel like it would be weird for them not to think about 'Him' at all, even though they're specifically trying not to think about 'Him.'  
> Pronoun games are fun :D


	4. Chapter 4

It had been a good day, so far.

Yesterday Edie had gone home right before Anne called her, which meant she had finished with the interview just in time to get royally chewed out by her ex for doing the one thing she had been expressly told _not_ to do. However, when Anne had called her this morning, her anger seemed to have lost steam.

“Hi Edie. You’re actually up?”

“Yeah, I’m going out to brunch today with Nkemdilim.”

“Good. I’m glad you’re making a new friend instead of a new enemy.”

Not to say the irritation was completely gone, but it had at least shifted into passive-aggressive digs instead of taking the form of an hour-long lecture.

After the obligatory morning check-in, Edie had gone over to Kim’s house and met the dogs, Apollo, Artemis, Arachne, and Anansi. They were all different breeds, but each one thought they were a lapdog. Which was all well and good with Anansi and Arachne, a Boston Terrier and a pug respectively, but Apollo was a fully-grown Golden Retriever and Artemis was a 65-pound black Lab.

Now that she had managed to escape from the crushing weight of four fluffballs testing the weight capacity of her lap, Edie was sitting at a tiny table with Nkemdilim outside of a café that, according to the latter, made the best canapes in the universe. From what she had sampled of the ultra-thin pancakes so far, Edie was inclined to agree with her friend.

“So why did you name him Anansi? Why not stick to Greek mythology?” Edie asked as she dipped another forkful of breakfast pastry into the chocolate syrup drowning her plate.

Kim elegantly nibbled on a strawberry as she considered her answer. “I guess I wanted another spider-themed name to go with Arachne. Besides, African mythology is cool too.”

Edie leaned back, enjoying the feeling of sunlight warming her face. Maybe this was what she’d been missing- just hanging out with a friend, eating pancakes and talking about dogs. It felt nice.

It was a good day.

Then she heard the gunshot.

When she opened her eyes, Kim’s chair was empty. Edie stood up, looking down as she did so, and saw the pool of red seeping across the ground.

There were more shots. People were running around, panicking. No one seemed to notice Nkemdilim lying there as Edie knelt down next to her. She stared at the small dot carved in Kim’s temple as she felt for a pulse. There was a pulse, still throbbing beneath the skin. Kim couldn’t be dead. Her heart was still beating. She had to be alive, she _had_ to be…

Edie felt something hit her arm and turned her head to see more red. A scarlet stain was spreading on her arm.

_Oh._ A half-crazed laugh escaped from her mouth. _I’ve been shot._

She stood up. People were still running around, but most had taken cover in some building or another now. Numbly, she walked up to the entrance of the café and knocked, peering through the glass door.

“Hey, got room for one more in there?”

Someone opened the door. Edie walked in to be greeted by a sea of pale faces. She tried to smile at them pleasantly.

“Hi. You all okay?”

“Miss, your arm,” a woman pointed out.

“Oh.” She glanced down at her arm. “It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt. Though that’s probably because I’m in shock, huh? When the pain hits, this is gonna suck.”

Some of the people looked at each other, puzzled. One of them asked, “Miss, are you alright?”

“I’m fine for now. Did anyone call the police?”

There were a couple nods.

“Okay. Good. The police should be here soon, then. I know someone on the force. Her name’s Anne, she’s a good cop.”

A man raised his hand. “I just called an ambulance. Is there anything I can get you?”

“An ambulance? Yeah, that’s good thinking. There are probably people out there who are hurt, they’ll need doctors-”

_Oh._

Edie looked back down at her arm.

_I was shot._

_Kim was shot._

_Kim’s-_

Edie didn’t know when she started crying. She didn’t know when she sat down on the floor, either, but here she was, knees pulled up her chest, tears running down her face. Her arm burned like she was pressed up against a furnace.

The man who had called the ambulance was kneeling next to her now, one hand gently pressing on her back, the other holding a water bottle towards her uninjured arm. She took it, twisting off the cap with her teeth and taking a long drink.

Then she was standing outside, an EMT leading her to the back of an ambulance. She could see Kim laid out on a stretcher. She turned to the EMT.

“That’s not right.”

The EMT blinked. “What?”

Edie pointed to the stretcher. “They’re not putting her in an ambulance. Why are they taking her to the black van? That’s not an ambulance.”

The EMT paused, then gestured to the ambulance. “Let’s get you to the hospital, okay?”

Edie got in the ambulance, still watching the stretcher. Kim lay there limply, staring blankly up at the sky. There were TV reporters nearby, news cameras rolling as people milled around anxiously.

News cameras. People being interviewed.

The interview.

_This is my fault._

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was quiet, and they couldn’t sleep.

The voices were gone now. No one else to share the space in their mind.

**I’m going to die here. Alone. Unwanted. Useless. Broken.**

They’d always known there was something wrong with them. Had they ever forgotten, He would’ve reminded them. He’d reminded them anyway.

_Defective. Who else would take you? Who would want you?_

His voice was gone, too. So why could they still hear Him?

_You belong to me. Remember that. You’re nothing, but I can still make something of you._

**Don’t think of Him.**

Long ago, they’d thought about what they’d wanted. Their purpose would always be decided by another, of course: that was an understanding universal to their kind. Weapons were to be used. For what would be decided by the wielder.

Most of their kind hoped for a wielder with a greater mission they could help accomplish, a vessel through which they could demonstrate their power, or a puppet with which they could toy until it wore out.

They themselves had never hoped for such things. To wish for anything other than such outcomes was folly, and yet they did not long for the acceptable, or even the plausible. Instead, they’d hoped for something that they’d known was out of reach, and always would be for their kind.

They’d hoped for-

Well, it was no use thinking about it now. If such dreams were impossible then, then how much more so now?

Then again, there was no point in depriving themselves of their little imaginings either. Why shouldn’t they want? There was nothing here to stop them from wanting, no one to judge their ridiculous wishes. So what if their dreams were unattainable? That was hardly news to them.

Even if the knowledge still hurt.

They’d hoped for a bond deeper than a simple partnership, to find someone who would not see them as a mere means to an end. They’d hoped to find…well, they weren’t exactly certain what they’d wanted to find. A companion? Friendship? Those didn’t seem quite right.

It didn’t matter now.

What they’d had with Him was not what they had wanted, but He’d at least allowed them to pretend that their connection was more than that of weapon and wielder. Other hosts wouldn’t have allowed them that little freedom, would have been horrified at the fantasies that they had. He had tolerated their playing pretend with minimal disgust.

**Don’t think of Him. You don’t want that.**

But what _did_ they want? What more could they have expected?

**It doesn’t matter now. I’m going to die here. Everything that could have been is irrelevant.**

Irrelevancy apparently did nothing to keep them from dwelling on something.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Anne tapped her fingers on the table nervously as the speakerphone continued ringing. Dan put a comforting hand on Anne’s shoulder as Edie finally picked up.

“Hey, this is Brock.”

“Edie! We saw what happened on the news. Are you okay?”

Edie’s voice sounded slightly off as she said, “I’m fine. Stray bullet got me in the arm. Won’t be doing any pushups for a while, but I’ll live.”

Dan let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding as Anne kept talking. “That’s good. How’s Nkemdilim? Was she there when the attack happened?”

There was a sharp inhale on the other end of the line, followed by silence.

Anne bit her lip. “…Oh. Edie, I’m so sorry-”

“You were right.” Edie’s voice was quiet.

“What?”

“You were right,” she repeated, her voice growing loud and frantic as she continued. “I shouldn’t have pissed Drake off, I was stupid, I should’ve left it alone, it’s my fault Kim’s-it’s my fault she’s dead, it should’ve been me, it’s my fault, it’s all my fault-”

Anne put her hands up automatically, forgetting that Edie couldn’t see her. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down. What are you talking about? What does this have to do with Drake?”

“He sent the shooter for me, Annie. It was supposed to look like an accident, just another victim in a random shooting.”

Dan cut in, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “They caught the shooter right after it happened, Edie. It was Cletus Kasady.”

“Who?”

“The serial killer. Remember the Gunther Stein case? The Jim Mulligan case?”

There was another pause. “The Carnage Killings?”

“Yeah,” Anne confirmed. “Cletus Kasady murdered eleven people before he was caught, and escaped while being transported to prison. Apparently he wanted to make a big comeback.”

“…”

“Edie?”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t make sense?”

“The Carnage Killings weren’t shootings, they were _guttings_. Kasady slashed those people open. Why would he suddenly change his modus operandi?”

Dan’s voice was professional but empathetic, his tone that of a doctor reassuring his patient. “It’s a little strange, but the point we’re trying to make here is that it’s not your fault. This isn’t connected to Drake.”

“Really? So it’s just a coincidence that Kasady switched out a blade for a gun right after I asked Drake about Maria?”

“Yes,” Dan answered firmly.

“Right. Okay. Sure.”

“Edie,” Anne cut in warningly.

“That’s my name.”

“This is _not_ your fault. Got it? None of this was because of you.”

“You don’t know that,” she shot back, her voice breaking. “You don’t know.”

“Edie, I’m coming to the hospital to pick you up. Stay where you are.”

There was a click on the other end of the line.

Dan quickly stepped over to the door and opened it for Anne before following her out to her car.

“She’ll be fine,” he told her, trying to convince himself as much as Anne.

Anne took a deep breath as she sat down behind the wheel. _Please don’t do anything stupid, Edie._

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Edie walked into the Life Foundation just as Drake was getting off the elevator into the lobby. She saw him a moment before he noticed her and marched toward him with fire in her eyes.

Drake examined her expression as she stopped in front of him. “Hello again, Ms. Brock.”

She slapped him across the face so hard he stumbled backwards, then shoved him to the ground. Straddling his chest, she grabbed his collar and punched him, and kept punching him, her nails biting so hard into her palm that a bit of her blood dripped onto his shirt with each blow.

When the security guards pulled her off of Drake, he seemed more startled than angry. He approached his attacker as two men kept her arms pinned behind her back, staring at her, completely bewildered as she somehow glared down at him despite being six inches shorter.

“What on earth were you hoping to accomplish with this?” he asked, half-laughing in his disbelief.

Edie stared back at him silently, lips slightly parted as she grit her teeth.

Drake smiled, touching his bruised cheek lightly. “Speechless? Hm, you were hardly at a loss for words during our last encounter. I’d count this as an improvement.”

She lunged, biting at his neck like a wild animal. He flinched as her teeth snapped together a few inches from his face, but otherwise didn’t move as his security began dragging her away. As Drake’s men struggled to get her out the door, Edie found her voice.

“Drake, you dirty, murdering, soulless snake! Don’t pretend like you don’t know what you did!”

There was more, but she had been effectively escorted outside the building before he could hear what else she had to say. Drake noted people staring and waved a dismissive hand.

“Nothing to worry about here. It’s been taken care of.”

Making his way through the lobby, Drake spotted the subordinate who’d delivered the latest message from Pullman. She was wearing her nametag this time.

“Dr. Skirth?”

She jumped to attention, nudging her glasses up higher on her nose. “Sir, was that Edie Brock?”

“Indeed. Apparently she wasn’t in a good mood today.”

Skirth frowned, her gaze darting to the door briefly. “After the shooting, we managed to procure six new variables. Do you want one to be sent to the other lab as a control?”

“We already have a control. Take all the new variables down to our primary lab.”

She nodded and turned around. Drake tapped her shoulder and leaned down, whispering in her ear.

“And tell Mr. Pullman that the next ceremony can take place as soon as he wishes.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_Focus, Edie. Breathe in, breathe out._

_My fault._

_Inhale, exhale. In, out, in, out._

_She died because of me._

_Breathe. Breathe._

_Myfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfault_

_Knock-knock-knock._ “Edie?”

_It’s Anne,_ she thought. _I should let her in._

She didn’t. Her breaths were shaky.

_In, out. In, out._

_Just get up and open the door, Edie. It’s not that hard._

Her fingers twitched.

_Why can’t I get up? Why can’t I do this?_

_I can’t do this._

_I can’t do anything._

_I couldn’t do anything._

_Useless. Stupid. Pathetic._

_Knock-knock-knock._ “Edie, are you okay in there?”

_“I’m fine.” Just say it._

She opened her mouth and choked on nothing.

_I can’t breathe._

_In, out._

_Why can’t I breathe?_

_Breathe in. Inhale. Exhale._

_My arm hurts._

_My head hurts._

_Why are my palms so sweaty?_

“I’m coming in.”

There was a click as the door was unlocked. Edie felt a hand rest gently on her shoulder. She caught the familiar lemony scent of Anne’s perfume.

“Hey. Are you alright?”

Edie swallowed. She should just nod. Then Anne could lecture her for going straight from the hospital to the Life Foundation and punching Drake in the face. Edie could shrug, say he deserved it. Anne would roll her eyes, warn her not to do anything else stupid, and leave, and not waste any more time worrying about Edie.

_I don’t deserve to have any more time wasted on me._

“Hey, Edie?”

_Dan. He’s here, too?_

_Just go, buddy. Nothing here that matters. Take Anne and go home to your nice, orderly life. You shouldn’t have to keep running after a screw-up like me._

She should tell him she was fine. He would listen to her answer, but hang around for a bit just to make absolutely sure that she _was_ okay, then give her a hug, and leave, and not have to bother any more with her. No one should have to bother with her. Why should anyone put up with her? She didn’t matter. She was worthless. All she did was run around and make messes for others to clean up, and people would get hurt, and it was her fault that Kim was-

_Crap. I’m crying._

_No, no, no, don’t cry, it makes them worry, and then they’ll stay, and then they’ll be wasting more time on me-_

Edie felt arms wrap around her, hands press on her back. She turned a little and saw Dan hugging her from behind, his chin nearly on top of her head. In front of her, Anne was squeezing her tightly, grip determined and secure.

Edie took a breath and leaned against Anne’s chest.

They shouldn’t have been wasting time on her.

They _didn’t_ have to be wasting time on her. But here they were.

It felt nice.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Edie had tried to look happy as she said, “Thanks for coming over, guys.”

Anne had smiled back. Dan had patted her on the back, biting his lip.

“You sure you’re gonna be fine on your own tonight? You could come back to our place for a bit if you like,” he’d offered.

“As tempting as that sounds, I don’t think I feel up to fighting Mr. Belvedere for the couch. I appreciate the invite, though.”

She’d stood on her toes to kiss Dan on the cheek. He’d blushed.

Anne had leaned down to kiss Edie on the forehead. “Call us if you need anything, alright?”

Edie had thrown a mock salute while attempting to appear at ease. “Yes ma’am.”

Now here she was, lying on the couch, crying into a pillow, because apparently her emotional stability without Anne and/or Dan there amounted to pretty much nothing.

Every time she thought she’d run out of tears, a fresh wave rolled in. Her upper lip stung with salt and snot, but she was sobbing too hard to get up and grab tissues. Her head was spinning, her stomach ached, and her throat was raw.

She sat up, shoved her face into the pillow so that she couldn’t breathe in, and _screamed,_ struggling to squeeze every last drop of frustration into her voice and pour it out. She screamed until her lungs were threatening to collapse. She screamed until her throat felt like it was regurgitating needles. She screamed, and the pressure in her head built, pushing outward from inside her skull as if her brain might explode through her temples.

When she pulled her face out of the pillow, she didn’t feel any less frustrated. The only thing her ‘therapeutic’ screaming session appeared to have accomplished was to make her vomit in her mouth a little afterwards.

Edie lay back down and kept crying.

When she woke up, she still felt like crap, but her tear ducts had finally stopped their waterfall imitation. She got up from the couch and made her way to the bathroom, stiff from being in one position for however long she’d been asleep.

Grabbing a washcloth, she turned on the faucet and ran water over her free hand. As she waited for the water to feel less like liquid ice, she stared in the mirror.

The bathroom light was harsh and white, making her skin seem pasty- or maybe she really was that pale- and illuminating every imperfection on her face. Her cheeks were blotchy and pink, looking like a rash against the doughy shade of the rest of her skin. Sweat glistened on her forehead and neck. Her lips were chapped, her hair was greasy, her eyeliner was running everywhere, and the whites of her eyes were dyed vivid red.

The water warmed. Edie wet the washcloth and rubbed it over her face, wringing the cloth out when she was done and looking in the mirror again.

She still looked like crap. The only difference was that her eyeliner was now a bit more of an evenly distributed mess.

She ran more water over the cloth and scrubbed her face again.

_Click._

Edie froze, washcloth still pressed to her cheek. Silently she moved from the mirror to the bathroom door, peeking around the corner to the entryway.

A sliver of light bled through from the hallway outside.

Some instinct prompted Edie to reach over and turn off the bathroom light. She poked her head out a little further, not quite out of the bathroom but enough so that she could get a clearer view of the front door.

The door creaked open slowly. A man stepped into the room, silhouetted by the light from the hallway. She couldn’t see him very well, but it didn’t take 20/20 eyesight to tell that the guy was _huge._

Her first idea was to grab her pepper spray. Unfortunately, that was stashed away in her purse, along with her phone, which was the next thing she’d thought to grab. Which wouldn’t have been a problem if her purse wasn’t sitting on the coffee table, which was in the other room, which currently had a large muscular man prowling around in it.

Quietly she grabbed the nearest thing at hand- a can of hairspray- and crept out of the bathroom. Mr. Muscles was in the kitchen, several feet away from the coffee table.

Hardly daring to breathe, she inched along until her purse was finally within reach. She was reaching out for it when the man turned around.

He immediately lunged for her. She darted to the side, but he grabbed her arm and dragged her toward him. She held up the aerosol in her hand and sprayed him in the face.

“Agh!”

His grip loosened enough for her to pull away and shove her palm up into his nose. He gave another cry of pain and fell backwards, his body knocking several stacks of plates over as it landed on the table.

Staring down at the intruder, Edie drew a shaky breath.

_What the heck just happened? Is he dead? Did I kill him?_

Her knees suddenly weakened. She stumbled backwards into the couch.

_Holy crap. I just killed this guy._

_He’s dead._

_Good,_ some small, vindictive part of her remarked.

Before she could contemplate what this said about her psyche, she felt a hand clamp over her mouth. She bit at the palm, tasting blood, but the only thing this accomplished was having fingernails dig into her cheek as retaliation. There was the pinch of a needle in her arm, and then-

-nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope none of you were too attached to Nkemdilim.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, a super fluffy meet cute!  
> ...kind of.

Edie was awake, but she didn’t open her eyes.

She was lying down on a hard, uneven surface with her hands duct-taped behind her back. The air was chilly without there being a distinct wind, and the ground pressing against her cheek was slightly damp.

_I’m someplace underground._

Voices were talking in hushed tones a few feet away. If Edie focused, she could make out a bit of what they were saying.

“…being used…”

“…unacceptable…”

“…dark is unsatisfied…”

“…not pawns…”

“Is this really necessary?”

The last voice was quiet, but clear.

_It’s a woman. She sounds nervous. Hang on- someone else is talking. A man. He sounds…weird. Like he’s in a trance, or maybe on drugs, but somehow lucid at the same time?_

“The darkness must be fed, Dr. Skirth. Sacrifices must be made.”

_Brainwashed,_ Edie realized. _He sounds like he’s been brainwashed. Crap, have I been kidnapped by a friggin’ cult?_

“Does the…sacrifice…have to be awake? Wouldn’t it be easier to seal her in while she’s unconscious?” the female voice- Skirth- asked.

“Does this bother you, Doctor?”

Edie felt a hand grab the collar of her shirt and yank her upright so she was kneeling. A sudden, sharp pain burst across her cheek.

“I know you’re awake, Edith Brock.”

She kept her eyes closed, letting her head hang limply. There was another slap, this time bruising the opposite side of her face.

“What are you doing?” Skirth sounded panicked.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

Edie felt herself be thrown forward. She automatically tried holding her hands out to help break her fall, her wrists chafing against the tape around them. She twisted enough to keep her nose from being the first thing to meet the ground, her jaw cracking against cold rock.

“Stop! Stop it!”

Edie opened her eyes, looking up as she struggled not to focus on the pain coursing through her face. She could see a figure with a white lab coat and a messy bun standing between her and a pale man whose black robes, straggly hair, and strange, detached expression screamed “evil cult member.”

“Now you interfere? I am not responsible for this woman’s presence here,” the man remarked, gesturing toward Edie. “If your conscience disturbs you so, then leave.”

“I can’t,” Skirth protested. “Mr. Drake sent me to ensure that…everything went smoothly.”

“Ah. He needn’t fear on that part. Rest assured the meat will die before the week is out. The darkness has been deprived for far too long for her to last any longer than that.”

Skirth glanced back at Edie, wincing as she saw the purple blotches forming on the latter’s face. Edie glared up at her.

“So you’re just here to make sure I get good and dead, huh? Funny, I’d have thought Drake would’ve sent someone with a stronger stomach for that. Or is it too difficult to watch someone suffer in person?” she spat.

Skirth flinched, though Edie wasn’t sure whether it was due to her comment or how Mr. Obviously-a-Cultist responded to it. He moved past the doctor and kicked at Edie’s unprotected stomach, driving the wind from her. Then he kicked at her knees, multiple times, until there was a loud _crack_.

As she blinked back the tears in her eyes, some random part of her wondered if he wore steel-toed boots for the aesthetic, completing the whole “prophet of darkness” look, or for practical purposes, like kicking the crap out of mouthy kidnapping victims.

The man knelt down, plucking Edie up in his arms and lifting her as if he was her knight in shining armor, instead of the freak that had just beat her up.

“Hush now, meat. Your suffering will end soon enough…if you are lucky,” he murmured comfortingly. “The darkness is hungry, but it may also be bored. Pray that it does not decide to play with its food beforehand.”

_Didn’t its mother teach it any manners?_ she thought, wheezing a little as a half-laugh pressed any remaining air out of her diaphragm. Invisible knives cut into her sides at the unwelcome movement, leaving her to gasp as shallowly as she could to try and manage the pain. Through her watering eyes, Edie caught blurred glimpses of white light. The sight struck her as oddly familiar, but before she could ruminate on it too much, her attention was pulled to what the light was surrounding- a narrow crack in the wall of the cave that seemed to widen moment by moment, opening like a mouth.

“The darkness welcomes you, Edith Brock. You are now a part of something greater than anything you ever have been. Find peace in this knowledge, and die.”

Before confusion could even register in her mind, Edie felt herself being thrown forward. She tumbled through the crack in the wall, hitting her head on the unyielding rock of the ground.

She had just enough time to think, _I’m gonna die with no clue what the heck is going on,_ before her vision cut to black.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They had almost grown used to being alone.

They didn’t like it any more than they had, but the ache inside them, the longing for someone, _anyone,_ to connect to, had numbed with the passing of time.

They were alone, and they would be alone. That was how things were. They’d been coming to accept that fact.

Then someone new fell into the vault, and their world flipped upside down.

The new person- a woman- had been knocked unconscious on entry. This wasn’t exactly a new occurrence. Others who had been forced into the prison a little more roughly had also received concussions courtesy of the cavern floor.

Their first instinct was to rush over, try to heal what damage they could before they were inevitably pushed away. They nearly did, but the swell of **_not alone_** and **_someone here_** and **_need to help_** hit them all at once, and they froze, struggling to process it.

Once it sank in that, yes, there was someone here, they were not alone, they allowed themselves to move toward her. They reached out-

-and stopped.

Something was different about this one.

They weren’t certain _what_ exactly was different. They tried to pinpoint it as they circled around her, examining her from a reasonable distance. She was female, but about half of the others had been too, so that was hardly unusual. She was small, despite her being fully developed, but not excessively so. Her skin and hair didn’t possess much melanin, but that wasn’t sufficient to differentiate her from the other couple dozen pasty humans that had been tossed in the vault with them.

They suddenly realized they were nervous, more so than they had ever been around the others, and the human hadn’t even woken yet. Perhaps the extended period of time they’d suffered without contact had set them on edge. They willed themselves to relax, focusing on the woman’s face as they waited for her eyes to open.

The first thing they noticed was that the hair on her face was different than the hair on her head. Her brows and lashes had thin coats of artificial substances that seemed to hold the purpose of making them darker. However, they could tell that even without such substances, the eyelashes and such contained more melanin than the rest of the hair and would have still been darker regardless of whether they were enhanced with chemical paints.

The second thing that caught their metaphorical eye were her lips. They had only the roughest idea of what was considered aesthetically pleasing to humans, but the woman’s lips seemed an elegant shape. The subtle dent in the upper lip, the slight outwards curve of the lower one, the rich flush of color as compared to the rest of the skin- it was oddly captivating.

Their fascination was briefly interrupted by the realization that the human had a bruise on her cheek. Automatically they reached out to heal it, but they stopped just before they could touch her skin.

Her skin looked soft, and delicate, and warm. The purple of the bruise contrasted with the white and pink of the rest of her face, a harsh, glaring mark that only made the woman seem more fragile. It would be painful to her, they knew.

They didn’t want her to be in pain.

So why couldn’t they bring themselves to touch her?

She stirred, and they panicked, fleeing to the other side of the cave.

They watched as she sat up, watched as she turned her head, and-

**Oh.**

Her eyes were blue.

Blue like the sky they had only caught glimpses of. Blue like the waters that swallowed the surface above them. Blue like flowers, especially the ones that they had learned were colloquially named “forget-me-nots.”

Blue like _His_ eyes.

**His eyes.**

**Him.**

**Who am I thinking of?**

**Someone- someone important. He was important to me. He- _Him-_**

**I can’t remember.**

This epiphany might’ve been more disturbing if they weren’t distracted by the fact that the woman was awake, her unforgettably blue eyes adjusting to the dark. They needed to hide, to get away, because if she saw them she would be afraid, like the others had been.

They should’ve been used to it.

**Why bother to hide? It won’t change anything.**

They crept along the edges of the cave, searching, searching for a crevice that they could shelter themselves in. They found one- a hole that led off into a tunnel. When they’d first been enclosed in the vault, they might’ve been foolish enough to try to slip into the tunnel, attempt an escape.

Their memories might have blurred, but the scent of scorching flesh, the shrieking that resonated down to their very core, the dying cry of the one that had dared try to leave the cavern…

They shook off the hideous recollection. They were not stupid enough to try to leave this way. They were simply hiding.

Hiding, and watching.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Edie’s first thought when she opened her eyes was, _I can’t see crap._

Her second thought was, _Everything hurts._

Which wasn’t precisely true. The pain was mostly localized to three main areas: her legs, her abdomen, and her head. That still encompassed most of her body, but at least her arms had been spared. Although that might’ve been due to the fact that they’d been trapped behind her back for so long that they’d gone numb.

Drawing a shuddering breath, she forced herself to sit upright, her stomach clenching in protest as the muscles in her torso contracted. Blinking back tears as she struggled not to fixate on the pain, she looked around at her surroundings, allowing her eyes to adjust.

She was in a cave. Granted, she had already been in a cave before Mr. Creepy Cultist had thrown her in here, but this felt a little more traditionally cave-like: a domed ceiling with stalactites poking down like teeth in a giant mouth, an oppressive darkness only barely relieved by the light issuing from the crack in the wall behind her, an eerie feeling of being observed by something unseen. Very classic underground horror vibes.

There was a small noise, like the crunching of gravel under feet, and Edie turned to try and spot the source of it. Naturally, nothing was there.

_Okay. There are two possibilities here. One, I have a concussion and might be having auditory hallucinations on the side. Two, I still have a concussion, but I’m not hallucinating and there’s something in here with me._

A sharp ache shot through her skull and she winced.

“Ow,” she muttered, automatically moving to bring her hand up to her head to apply pressure to her temples before overbalancing and falling back over, this time getting one of her conveniently numbed arms to take the brunt of the impact as she collapsed onto the ground again.

“Ow!” she repeated, scowling at her duct-taped limbs as if she might free them by expressing her displeasure vocally enough.

The wet-gravel noise reached her ears again, and she twisted to see where it was coming from. Still nothing.

She lay there, every muscle in her body taut and aching, sweat drying on her forehead and arms. Her mouth felt like she’d gone to the Sahara and stuck her tongue in a sand dune.

“Okay, if something is in here with me, could you just come out already? If some freaky cult monster is going to torture me or eat me or whatever, I’d like to at least see it first,” she snapped.

Edie wasn’t sure what she expected to happen. She hadn’t really thought that yelling at an invisible monster had accomplished anything. Even if there was a creature in the cave with her, she couldn’t truly expect it to listen to her.

She certainly hadn’t expected for the monster to do what she said.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They hadn’t expected her to speak to them.

They especially hadn’t expected her to sound so _angry._

On the rare occasions the others had actually addressed them directly, it had always been with fear, with pleading, with a sort of awe inspired by being in the presence of what one knew to be dangerous, even if one knew nothing else.

She did not sound afraid. She sounded defiant. Commanding.

Before they had realized what they were doing, they had emerged from the crevice, creeping across the floor until they were right in front of her.

She made a noise as she saw them, something that might have been a yelp if it hadn’t been caught and strangled in her throat. Her eyes widened in surprise and confusion. Her mouth opened, and she spoke again.

“The heck?” she squeaked, shifting away from them before wincing as she glared down at her injured knees. Then she looked up again, her shock tempered by irritation.

“The heck are you?” she croaked, her eyebrows drawn together in an expression that might have conveyed a hint of worry, but mostly showcased annoyance.

They immediately tried to answer her before recalling the fact that they did not possess vocal cords. They attempted to form some, struggling to imitate a humanoid larynx, and pushed air out through a makeshift mouth in a crude facsimile of speech.

“ **Hakshrfrthhnynasfrdnnnsskkthhh**.”

At that point they remembered that while they had heard the others speak it, they had no concept of how to speak English themselves.

They wanted to speak. They wanted to explain. They wanted her to _understand_.

But they were scared.

_Monster,_ she had said. And they had responded.

If she pushed them away-

**That’s happened before,** part of them reasoned. **What difference does it make?**

Yet this was different. _She_ was different, somehow, in some way they couldn’t quite put together in their mind.

And however much they longed to reach out, the thought of her rejecting them, being scared of them…

It hurt. More than the loneliness eating them up from the inside.

They melted into themselves, and shrank away, disappearing back into their hiding spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor space goo has a huge stupid crush and doesn't realize it yet.  
> Also, congrats Edie! You've just met your soulmate.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time: Edie met her alien goop soulmate, but said alien soulmate simply made a weird noise and ran away.  
> This time: The alien goop works up the courage to actually talk to Edie! Sort of.

Anne skimmed the list of the victims from the shooting for the umpteenth time.

“Nkemdilim…Nkemdilim…N-K-E…”

She absently noted the sounds of the door opening, footsteps, and Dan’s voice as they came in a familiar succession. However, she was fixated intensely enough on the victim list that she didn’t register that Dan was talking to her until he tapped her on the shoulder.

“Anne?”

She twisted around in her chair, catching his hand between the palm of her own hand and her shoulder. “Hey. Sorry, I was zoned out.”

Dan peeked at the paper grasped in her other hand. “Did you find Edie’s friend?”

Anne shook her head. “All of the bodies we found have been identified, but I can’t find a Nkemdilim among them. Any chance she’s among the injured, not the dead?”

Dan frowned. “There are twenty-six people we’re still treating for major injuries. None of them are named Nkemdilim. Maybe she’s already been treated?”

“From the way Edie was talking on the phone, her friend wasn’t just grazed. I doubt Nkemdilim would have been in and out of the hospital as quickly as that.”

Dan squinted at the list again. “Is it possible her body simply wasn’t found?”

Anne released his hand, putting her elbow on the table. “Only if it turned invisible. We did everything but go over the area with a microscope, and I’m pretty sure we’re doing that next. There’s no way she hasn’t been found yet.”

Dan blinked, an odd expression on his face. His fiancé noticed this and sat up.

“What? What is it?”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing. I just…well, the way you phrased that made me think maybe she _was_ found already.”

“And the hospital or morgue just hasn’t identified her yet or something?”

He bit a piece of skin off his lip, running the tip of his tongue over the raw spot his teeth had uncovered. “Or she wasn’t found by the authorities at all.”

Anne smoothed her hair out of her face, returning to the list with a crease pressed in between her brows. “The department hadn’t considered that someone would’ve removed a body from the vicinity of the shooting. It’s definitely a possibility, but we’ve already confirmed Kasady was acting alone. If they weren’t his accomplice, why would anyone do that?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_Why am I doing this?_

Dora had asked herself the same question many times while working for Drake. She’d answered herself, too, but the answers had changed as the circumstances under which she asked did.

At first, she’d asked _why_ as a method of motivating herself, a way to keep herself on track and not lose sight of her purpose. _I’m doing this for the betterment of mankind. I’m doing this to help people._

It was laughable how long she’d managed to actually believe that. Not that it hadn’t been true, at first- she really did want to help people, and the Life Foundation had seemed like a great place to do just that. After all, Carlton Drake focused on the greater good above all else, and he ensured that his company did as well.

The issue with the greater good above all else was that “all else” included individuals. Humans. People.

If Dora’s only motivation driving her work for Drake had been her desire to help people, she should’ve switched jobs long ago.

When it became clear that she couldn’t file everything she was asked to do under “for the betterment of mankind,” she’d begun asking _why_ a lot more often. In response, her answers materialized a lot less frequently, balancing her increased doubt with decreased certainty in a messed-up equilibrium.

_I’m doing this for the sake of knowledge. If the Foundation didn’t run these experiments, eventually someone else would…right?_

_I’m doing this because it’s my job. I don’t have to like everything I do, but I have to do it._

_I’m doing this because Mr. Drake has some greater purpose in mind, something I can’t really understand, but I’m not about to get in the way of it._

Finally her doubts had outweighed her weak justifications, and she’d considered finding work elsewhere. When Drake had caught wind of it, however, he’d given her a very concrete reason to remain in his employ.

_You care a lot for your parents, Dr. Skirth. It’s refreshing, seeing a career-driven woman still have her values rooted in family. They’re very proud of what you’ve accomplished, you know. You’re lucky to have them._

_I’d imagine you’d want them around for as long as possible, yes?_

After that, she hadn’t had any doubts about what kind of place the Life Foundation was, what kind of man Carlton Drake was. And she knew exactly why she worked for him.

_I’m doing this to protect my family._

Then the shooting happened.

Her parents hadn’t been killed, or even injured. They’d been in the vicinity of the attack, been badly shaken by it, but nothing worse. Her father had found her afterwards, hugged her so tightly it hurt.

“Captain Stacy’s daughter was killed in the shooting,” her mother had mentioned during dinner that night. “They think she might’ve been targeted; Captain Stacy was on the team that brought Kasady down.”

Dora had felt a little sick, thinking about the bullet both her and her parents had dodged. Although in her parents’ case the metaphor was much more literal, if Dora had accidentally removed the body of a police officer’s daughter from a crime scene-

She wasn’t going to think about it.

Her father had put his hand on her shoulder as her mother talked. “Are you okay, Dor?”

“Oh.” She’d blinked, returning to the conversation. “It’s awful to think about, isn’t it? Poor Captain Stacy…being responsible for your own daughter’s death-”

“He was not responsible for her death,” her mother had snapped. “Kasady was the one who shot her, not the captain. Don’t you dare blame him-”

“No, I’m not- I just- if he hadn’t gotten involved-”

“Then what? If he hadn’t helped arrest Kasady, Kasady would’ve gone on killing anyway. Captain Stacy did the right thing, and Kasady punished him for it. Don’t blame him for trying to help people, Dora.”

_I’d tried- I’d tried to help-_

“What if it was me?”

She hadn’t known what made her blurt it out, and she’d regretted it as soon as she’d seen her parents’ faces.

“If you died...” her mother had begun, and then stopped, struggling.

“Then I would track down Kasady and strangle him with my bare hands,” her father had supplied, squeezing Dora’s shoulder.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I meant if…if I was a police officer…and you were targeted because of me…”

She’d closed her mouth, not trusting herself to say anything more.

“Then I’d expect you to track down whoever killed us and see justice done, instead of wasting time blaming yourself for something that wasn’t your fault,” her mother had replied, sitting up straight and taking a sip of her tea.

“Although I’d hope you’d miss us a bit as well,” her father had added jokingly.

She’d looked at them, her brave, amazing parents, in the dark about so many things she’d done in the name of their protection.

“I have something to tell you.”

They’d been shocked, of course, and her mother had been disappointed that she’d kept it from them, but in the end they reacted as they always did.

“It’s your life. Don’t make your decisions because of us, make them because of you,”

“We love you Dor. We trust you to do what’s right, because we know you will.”

And it had felt so _freeing,_ telling her parents everything that she’d been holding back for years, but now she was back to the beginning- asking herself _why,_ finding where she’d left off, reconsidering her purpose.

Staring down at the corpse she was running tests on, Dora mindlessly copied the readings on the nearby monitors while feeling newly aware of the face watching her with sightless eyes.

It was a woman, her features finely sculpted, her dark skin smooth and unmarked save for the hole in the side of her head. Her face in repose was peaceful, and if not for her eyes, it would’ve been easy to pretend she was sleeping. It occurred to Dora that she hadn’t learned the woman’s name. Dora didn’t know if the woman had a family, or friends, or anyone who would miss her.

“Why am I doing this?” she asked the body.

Thankfully the corpse did not reply, but something clicked within Dora’s brain anyway. She’d been asking herself the same question for so long, and she’d never settled on an answer. Perhaps it was time to change the question.

_Why should I keep doing this?_

The answer came quickly.

_You shouldn’t._

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Edie still had no inkling of what the heck was happening, but she was working on it.

She organized what she _did_ know into a little mental list, like an outline for one of her articles.

  1. _I called out a rich a-hole._
  2. _I called out a rich a-hole who has an entire company backing him up in his a-holery._
  3. _A shooting happened (that may or may not have been because of me)._
  4. _I punched Drake in the face._
  5. _I got kidnapped. (After possibly killing a guy, but whatever- he was helping kidnap me. He deserved it. I think.)_
  6. _A crazy dude who might be leading a cult beat me up and threw me in here._
  7. _SOMETHING IS IN HERE WITH ME._



She went over her List of Things She Knew For Certain. Numbers 1 and 2 would’ve been a source of pride for her under ordinary circumstances, but in light of Number 3 they were currently a source of regret. Edie decided not to dwell on the first half of the list too much.

Number 5 was still a bit surreal. She’d _killed_ someone. Shouldn’t she have felt scared? Disgusted? Numb? Anything besides vaguely triumphant? Maybe that was something to think about later.

The whole “getting thrown in a cave because you’re being sacrificed and/or assassinated” thing was _very_ surreal. Drake obviously had something to do with it, but Edie wasn’t clear on what. Was he helping the cult? Was the cult helping him? Was the Life Foundation secretly run by the cult, or maybe vice-versa? It didn’t seem likely she was going to receive any new leads on _that_ conundrum soon, but her primary concern didn’t lie with the cult anyway.

Currently Edie had most of her attention devoted to Number 7 and the fact that SHE WAS IN THE CAVE WITH A GOOP MONSTER. Which probably should’ve worried her more, but she was worn out from being kicked all over by The Cultist With Steel-Toed Boots _(good name for a metal band)_ and frankly didn’t have the energy to be more than angry at the fact she couldn’t punch Goop Monster _(also a good name for a metal band)_ in its non-existent face.

When it had approached her, she’d been half-convinced that it would just absorb her like an evil amoeba and that would be that. Her life would end with her clueless butt getting sacrificed to some Lovecraftian horror, with her main legacy being “that one chick who punched Drake in the face.” Which, honestly, wouldn’t have been the worst legacy except that people would also probably remember that she had disappeared under mysterious circumstances afterwards, therefore discouraging anyone else from following her example and giving that prick the beating he deserved.

But Goop Monster hadn’t absorbed her. It had tried to…speak? Then it had retreated.

_Why, though? Why run away from me? Is it scared? What does it want?_

An idea struck her on the last thought, and on impulse she acted on it. Maybe it was because she didn’t have anything to lose. Maybe it was because the monster seemed to have listened to her. Maybe it was because she had a concussion. Whatever the cause, she opened her mouth and spoke.

“What do you want?”

She lay there, waiting. As time passed, she had time to think over her logic and steadily lose faith in it.

_I don’t know crap about this thing. It might want to eat me. It might want to kill me. It might just want to be left alone. And even if it wants something else, how would it be able to tell me what it does want? Morse code? Sign language? I don’t understand those. Well, Goopy probably wouldn’t know those either, so it doesn’t really matter._

There was a noise of gravel shifting, and Edie shifted so that she could see the source of it. The monster was emerging, moving across the ground like a living liquid, half-spilling, half-slithering towards her. It was mesmerizing, almost beautiful, and she leaned forward to get a better look before a surge of pain through her body reminded her that she had gotten her knees and stomach kicked in.

She winced and cursed under her breath, and the monster stopped, hesitating. For a moment, it hovered there, then began pulling back.

“No- wait-”

Edie tried to scoot towards Goop Monster, but the shift in her momentum caused her to roll over onto her face. She cursed again as her knees hit the ground and got a mouthful of grit.

Turning her head so that she was facing Goopy again, she spat out what cave dirt she could before talking. “Hey, I’m not a threat, you know? I’m all busted up over here, I can’t exactly jump you.”

The creature (Edie decided maybe it was unfair to label it a monster when it hadn’t been hostile so far) stopped again, then crept forward. It approached more slowly then before, but didn’t stop until it was almost touching her face.

Edie blinked. “Whoa, okay. Huh. Um. You…look kind of like Gothic Silly Putty.”

_Wait, why did I say that? Is that offensive? Does it even know what Silly Putty is? Does it feel like Silly Putty?_

Resisting the sudden urge to boop Goop Creature with her nose and find out what its texture resembled, she shook her head and kept going with the vague impression that she had already begun, so it was too late to go back now.

“That was a compliment! Or meant to be a compliment. Actually, it was more of an observation. Sorry, am I rambling? I have a concussion.”

Goopy didn’t respond. It was unnerving, having a dark mass so close to her face that she could feel the warmth of her breath reflected back on her skin.

“Hey…can you understand me? Can you…nod, or anything?”

The creature bobbed up and down, like a puddle rippling from the impact of a raindrop. Edie smiled.

“Okay, good. That’s a start. Um…”

The creature reached out suddenly, closing what little distance there was between them, and touched her face.

Edie stared at the tendril pressed against her cheek.

“Wha-”

A pulse shot through her, sharp and hot. She felt so small, so constricted, and yet everything had expanded. Her bones and organs felt trapped inside her skin, tightly restrained by muscles and tendons. The air was solid ice walled around her, and she was a flame sheathed by flesh. She gasped, but couldn’t breathe.

As she was reeling, a voice, blurred, alien, rumbled in her head.

**I want you.**

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They didn’t believe it.

They must’ve fallen asleep. They must be dreaming, because there was no way they were here, talking to _her,_ unrejected. She had _wanted_ to talk to them. It must be a dream.

**I want you.**

Her thoughts were skewed slightly by pain, but fierce, bright, and clear nonetheless. Her mental voice was louder and more coherent than her physical one, though it held a slightly frantic quality that matched her wide, startled eyes.

_What was that?_

Guilt solidified somewhere inside them. **It was me.**

_You?_

**You asked me what I wanted.**

_Yeah, I guess I did. Yep. Okay. Talking to goop through telepathy. This isn’t weird at all._

They paused. **Does this bother you?**

_I mean, the whole multiple injuries thing is causing some discomfort, not gonna lie._

**But my being in your head does not bother you?**

She chuckled silently. Her smile made something inside them twist. _Not like there’s much up here anyway._

They were unsure how to respond to the self-deprecating remark (which appeared to be humorous in intent somehow) and lay there quietly for a bit, processing the fact that they were, for once, being accepted. It was unreal. Some paranoid instinct warned them from getting too comfortable- it couldn’t be possible that she was truly at ease with them. She had asked them questions, had actually _communicated_ with them. It couldn’t really be happening, not to them.

_What did you mean by that?_

They jerked themselves from their reverie. **Mean by what?**

_You said you want…me? Want me for what? Food?_

They seized up. **NO.**

She flinched, and the guilt sitting heavy inside them turned hot, like lead soaking up heat from fire. _Hey, I was joking. Kind of. Cut me some slack here, all I know about you is that you’re goopy and live in a cave. Not a lot to go off of._

They shifted slightly, relishing the feel of her skin as they adjusted their physical contact with her body. She was warm and cold all at once: different bits of her held different temperatures. The others had also possessed temperature disparities, but none of them were concerned with their bodies’ idiosyncrasies at the time, all focused completely either on their own mortality or the foreign entity nearby. Her thoughts were scattered, darting around like fish in a pond. While her main focus was on the conversation, they could sense other things picking at her attention in the background.

_(That white coat picked a great time to grow a conscience. If only she’d grown some balls along with it.)_

_(I wonder when Anne will find out I’m missing. Technically I won’t be missing until I’ve been gone for two full days, but she’ll figure out something’s up before then.)_

_(Hey, I can feel my hands now! They’re freezing. That duct tape is probably cutting off my circulation. Yay.)_

While they answered her question, they spread their form over her more, covering her hands to warm them in order to remedy the discomfort that temperature difference apparently caused to humans and sliding under the duct tape to loosen it.

**I want you to be mine.**

_What does that mean? You want me to be your Valentine?_

They caught a sense of what “Valentine” implied: shades of red and pink, various confections of sugar, paper with sentimental words written on it, and shapes called “hearts.” From what they could discern, although the muscle dubbed the heart and the shape under the same name were used interchangeably, the two didn’t really resemble each other. The concept was interesting nonetheless, and they wouldn’t have minded further exploring what exactly a “Valentine” was, but they didn’t wish to force their way into her mind like they had with the others. She wasn’t frightened of them, and they weren’t about to jeopardize that for the sake of mere curiosity.

**I want you to be my host.**

_Host? Like, you want to possess me?_

She tensed. They floundered, struggling to find appropriate human terms for what they desired.

**It is not possession. It is…symbiosis. I can help you, and you can help me.**

They sensed her apprehension as she eyed them. _Oooookay. How exactly can I help you?_

**You would be the base of operations. I would live inside you-**

_Pretty sure that’s the same thing as possession!_

**No! I would not control you. Others would, but I won’t. I refuse.**

Their vehemence took her aback. They would have regretted their outburst had they not felt her relax as she processed what they’d told her.

_That’s…good to know, I guess. Hey, can I ask you another question?_

**You already have.**

_Ha ha, very funny._

They shrank a bit. **I was not intending to make light of your request. I was simply remarking upon the fact that you already made an inquiry of me. You requested to know what I want, remember?**

She frowned. _Oh. Um, sorry. I thought you were being smart._

**Do you want to ask your question now?**

_Right, yeah. When you made that weird noise, were you talking in your own language or…?_

**Ah. That was…an attempt at communication. I imitated the equipment necessary for interaction on the verbal level, but I failed to consider the usage of such.**

_You don’t know how to talk out loud, then._

**No.**

A swell of embarrassment ran through them at this confession. She sensed it and smiled kindly at them.

_Hey, same._

They both laughed, but she winced and coughed afterward, clutching at her stomach.

_Ah, crap. Stupid cultist creep- if he really wanted me to shut up he should’ve just duct-taped my mouth too._

They reached out automatically, their form running over hers until they covered her stomach. **You are injured.**

_Yup. Head, stomach, knees and toes. Actually, my toes are fine, it’s just the rest of me that feels like crap._

**You are not as injured as you were. The pain may still be there, but that should improve.**

_What exactly do you mean by- Whoa._

She lifted her arm, staring at it as if she’d only just discovered that limb, then rolled onto her back. Slowly, she sat upright, gritting her teeth, and took a deep breath. She looked down at her lap, where most of their form was concentrated.

_What did you do?_

She didn’t sound indignant- she sounded perplexed, curious, as if she were asking a magician how he’d performed his trick.

**I am attempting to return your body to optimal condition. You will still hurt, but your injuries are healing more effectively.**

_Heck yeah they’re healing more effectively. Did you just fix my internal bleeding in the time it took me to make a crappy joke?_

**You were not bleeding internally, and I was already working on your injuries before you aggravated your torso by laughing.**

_Huh. So this is your end of the symbiosis deal, then? I let you live in me, and you fix me up?_

**Essentially. There are other dynamics involved in symbiosis, but that is the basic premise. Is that agreeable to you?**

_I mean, sure. What a deal! Insta-healing for the low, low price of being a host, whatever that means._

**The healing process is not instantaneous.**

_I know, I know. That was just hyperbole. Still, whatever you’re doing, it’s amazing._

They froze.

**(Amazing.)**

**(She…called me amazing.)**

They struggled to focus on healing her, dressing her wounds, soothing her pain. She had agreed to the symbiosis: they needed to hold up their end of the deal.

_Hey, you okay?_

She was staring down at them, the color of her eyes invoking nostalgia for something they couldn’t bring themselves to recall.

**I am fine. Rest now- I can only do so much to heal you, and sleep will accelerate the process.**

She lay back down _(if sleeping on a firm mattress is good for you, sleeping on this is going to double my life expectancy)_ and closed her eyes. They could feel her consciousness gradually drift, her body entering a state of rest.

As her breathing slowed, she murmured something that would have been inaudible, but they were pressed up against her, closer than they could’ve ever hoped to be, and they heard her clearly.

“What’s your name? I’m Edie.”

She crossed into sleep before they could reply.

**(Edie. Her name is Edie.)**

It was an odd name, two simple syllables to summarize the entire existence of this one person. They quite liked it.

**(Edie.)**

They flowed around her, covering her completely so they could more effectively regulate her body temperature.

Remembering their first attempt to communicate, they created a facsimile of vocal cords again, this time using hers as a blueprint. Imitating the movements of her mouth and tongue, they made the air vibrate, shaking out the stumbling form of a word.

“ **Ee…Eed…Edie…** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby's first word! Unless you count "hakshrfrthhnynasfrdnnnsskkthhh."  
> Edie are you aware that you're seducing an alien with every breath you take?   
> Also, poor Anne and Dan. They have no idea what they'll be getting into.  
> "What is that Edie?"  
> "The love of my life."  
> "The love of your life is black Silly Putty?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New character in this chapter!  
> Also, Edie learns a bit more about her soulmate-to-be.

Dora didn’t think she was going to regret her decision. She _knew_ she was going to regret it.

There were a lot of rules at the Life Foundation, which only grew more numerous the more involved you became in the work. However, while a list of the official restrictions would probably be as long as the Foundation building was tall, most of the rules you followed under Drake were the unspoken ones. Don’t ask questions about things you weren’t assigned to, don’t try to communicate with the “volunteers,” don’t linger after hours.

Out of all the unspoken rules, however, there was one that would basically be suicide to break. Naturally that was the one Dora was shattering into a million pieces right now, because apparently all her self-preservation instincts had flown out the window and into traffic.

As she walked into the police station, she thought briefly of the reporter, Edie Brock. Most reporters, even if they didn’t have the sense to tread warily around Drake, were a little in awe of the man. He was rich, powerful, good-looking- any one of those three qualities tended to come with an intimidation factor, and Drake had the whole trifecta. Even so, Brock had appeared unaffected. She had looked Drake in the eye and accused him of murder with a smile on her face.

And now? She was probably dead, or at the very least grievously injured, lying in a cave waiting to be devoured by some dark god.

_And here I am, following her example. What are you doing, Dor?_

Unsure of the answer, she waited at the front desk while people in civvies, suits, and uniforms rushed around, not acknowledging her presence.

“Can I help you?”

Dora flinched, turning to face the uniformed woman at the desk.

“May I speak to Captain Stacy, please?”

The woman frowned, tucking her shoulder-length hair behind her ear. “The captain’s unavailable at the moment. May I ask what the matter is?”

Dora bit her lip. “It’s…not something I’m comfortable sharing too openly, sorry. Do you have any idea when the captain will be available?”

“It’s difficult to say. If it’s a time-sensitive matter you might want to talk to someone besides Captain Stacy. Is there anyone else you’d be comfortable sharing your situation with?”

Skirth shook her head, staring at her toes. “No…I’m sorry for bothering you. Thank you for your time, officer.”

“Of course. Let me know if there’s any way I can help.”

Dora faced the door, walking slowly as her mind buzzed.

_Who else can I go to? Captain Stacy would never be on Drake’s payroll, but anyone else here could be. Should I just keep my mouth shut after all?_

“Come on, Edie. Pick up…”

Dora twisted around so quickly she nearly fell over. The blond woman at the desk was looking down at her lap, eyebrows drawn together in an expression of concern.

“Why aren’t you answering?” she muttered, absently putting a hand to her forehead.

Skirth walked right back to the desk. The woman sat upright as she saw Skirth returning. As she did, Skirth noticed the name emblazoned on her badge: “A. Weying.”

“Can I help you?”

Dora shrugged. “I heard you say the name Edie. You wouldn’t be referring to Edie Brock by any chance, would you?”

“The one and only. Why, are you a reader of the Brock Report?”

“Actually, I work at the Life Foundation. I was there when Ms. Brock interviewed Mr. Drake. It…left an impression.”

Officer Weying snorted under her breath. “Yes, I bet it did.”

“Is she missing?”

Weying froze, fixing Skirth with a suspicious glare. “Excuse me?”

“You know her. You’ve been texting her, or calling her, and she hasn’t been answering. Right?”

The officer got up from her seat and walked out from behind the desk, gesturing for Skirth to follow her.

She followed Officer Weying down the hallway and through a door with a metal plate designating it “Interrogation Room B.” The room was bare, save for a table with two chairs set on opposite sides. Weying gestured for Dora to sit, and Dora obeyed.

“What do you know about Edie Brock?” Weying asked. Her voice was soft, almost gentle, and her demeanor could’ve been soothing if not for the steely glare in her eyes that was piercing Skirth through to her bones.

Swallowing visibly, Dora forced herself to meet Weying’s gaze. “She’s been kidnapped.”

Weying’s eyes flashed, but the rest of her displayed no intense response to the news as Dora had expected. Her voice turned slightly more brisk and businesslike, betraying none of the anger that was blazing in her stare.

“How do you know she was kidnapped? Did you witness the kidnapping?”

“No. I wasn’t there when she was taken.”

Weying crossed her arms. “Then how do you know what happened to her?”

Dora’s gaze slipped from the officer’s, and she stared at her fingers, guilt knotting up her gut.

“It isn’t a brief story.”

Weying sat down in the other chair. “Then you’d better start talking.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Edie woke up feeling much better than before.

Granted, “before” she had felt like her intestines had been through a meat grinder, and her kneecaps had been answering even the tiniest movements with screaming pain, so that might not have been the highest bar to clear.

**Hello, Edie.**

She rubbed her eyes and sat upright, stretching as much as her stiff muscles would allow. “Hello to you too. Wait, how do you know my name?”

**You told me.**

“Oh. Right. Did you tell me yours?”

**I did not.**

“Okay, so I didn’t forget it or anything. Good.”

**It’s Vvnsynstimrm.**

Edie stopped mid-stretch. “What?”

**My name is Vvnsynstimrm.**

“Vehvin…Vuhvensin…sorry, do you have a nickname or anything? Because there is no way I’m ever going to pronounce that correctly.”

They wriggled, and Edie was suddenly aware that Van Sin Storm was settled beneath her skin. She inhaled sharply, trying to not focus too much on the fact that there was a living goop creature with an unpronounceable name currently inside her.

**I was given my name after many years of service. No other titles were ever granted to me.**

“You were given-? So when your mom popped you out or you hatched or whatever, you didn’t get a name?”

**Klyntar are not given names when they are…“popped out.” Some are never given names at all.**

“Klyntar?”

**My kind. You are human, I am Klyntar.**

“Huh. So you’re an alien?”

**To your kind, yes.**

“And when Klyntar want to talk to other Klyntar, do they just go ‘Hey you!’ and the other one automatically knows who they’re talking to?”

**Klyntar do not typically communicate with one another.**

“Oh. So when you guys hook up or whatever, it’s like a ‘wham bam thank you ma’am’ one-night stand sort of deal?”

**What? What is a one-night…ah. Klyntar do not copulate to reproduce. Offspring are made asexually.**

“You clone yourselves?”

**The offspring have unique genetic traits, sometimes partially derived from the host of their ‘parent,’ but they are never an exact copy as a clone would be.**

“Cool. Have you ever made any kids?”

**I have not produced spawn, but even if I had, they would never have been considered children. Klyntar do not mature as humans do. We are born to be shaped by others, molded into tools.**

“Plenty of humans can become tools, but I’m guessing that’s not what it means for Klyntar.”

There was a soft chuckle in her head. _(The laugh of the goop.)_

**No. Our entire lives are dictated by who owns us and what they use us for.**

“Wait, so you’re slaves?”

**We were never enslaved. Klyntar were created to be used- we are not a people who were taken over by foreign entities. Klyntar are living weapons.**

“Okay, so Klyntar are artificial life forms that are also slaves.”

**Slaves are people. Klyntar are not.**

“Uh-huh. Tell me, who told you that your kind isn’t people? I’m betting that info came from your ‘owners.’”

**How is the source of that information relevant?**

“Because your ‘owners’ probably don’t want you to see yourselves as people. They probably want you to see yourselves as they see you- something to be used- as opposed to individuals with identities and ideas. Ideas like rising up against your masters.”

**…Hm. You are very intelligent, Edie.**

Edie lay back down. “Thanks, Ve…Vivi…hey, I know you’ve never had a nickname, but now would be a good time to come up with one.”

**In your language, Vvnsynstimrm would be translated as ‘Toxin’ or ‘Venom.’**

“Venom. Hardcore nickname.”

Edie felt them shift beneath her skin again, as if they were agitated.

“Not a fan?”

**It sounds…menacing.**

“Is there something else you’d like to be called?”

Black oozed out from her hands. Two white spots pooled in her palms, staring up at her.

**What I would like to be called?**

“Yeah. You can pick your own nickname if you want.”

**Edie is a nice name.**

She laughed. They felt a jolt of warmth and partially slid back under her skin, resting a tendril against her esophagus so they could feel the air quiver in her throat.

“I think so too, but it might be a little confusing if you start calling yourself that.”

They redistributed most of their mass so that their form was draping over her shoulder, flowing down her back. **What was that you called me?**

“You’ll have to be more specific- I butchered your name a couple different ways.”

**The last thing you called me.**

“Um, Vivi? I think.”

**It is not dissimilar from the first syllable of my title, and it is less menacing than Venom.**

“Do you want me to call you Vivi, then?”

They swirled around her shoulders, wrapping her in a warm, even weight.

**Yes, please.**

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Anne took a deep breath to steady herself.

“So you’re telling me that Carlton Drake has been volunteering people to a cult as sacrifices.”

Skirth nodded. “He delivers victims to the cult, and the cult disposes of them.”

“And you saw Edie being…disposed of?”

Skirth bit her lip. “She might not be dead. The cult restrained her and put her inside a chamber, but the injuries inflicted by Mr. Pullman weren’t fatal.”

Anne ran one hand through her hair, letting her nails scrape her neck. “Do you know where she is?”

“I was blindfolded when they took me to the location of the ‘sacrifice.’ The cult takes the same precaution with everyone who isn’t a member- even Drake doesn’t know where they operate.”

“Did you see any landmarks or notable features in the surrounding area?”

Skirth scrunched up her brow in concentration. “I don’t think so…it was dark, and I wasn’t really given a chance to look around before they led me into the temple.”

“The temple was underground, right? Could it have been an abandoned mine shaft or something?”

“No, it looked like a naturally occurring cavern. There weren’t any supports or marks from equipment.”

Anne sighed. “So all we have to go on is that it’s someplace underground that’s _not_ a mine or anything that there would be a definite record of. Great.”

“There could be a record of their power usage,” Skirth suggested.

“Power usage?”

“When they opened up the chamber in the temple, the walls had some sort of energy flowing through them. It looked like they were using technology to operate the chamber door. That would require a power source. A power source would expend energy, and that energy can be tracked.”

Anne held her hands up. “You’re telling me that a mystery death cult is hiding a generator in their cavern temple to operate their door?”

“I don’t know what the cult is centered around, actually, but-”

Anne put her hands to her temples. “Right, right, okay. Power source. You can track it?”

“We have equipment at the Life Foundation that tracks energy output. It would take a little adjusting, but yes, I could hypothetically track the source of any energy output from any generator in the city.”

“And how long would this take?”

Skirth frowned. “I doubt Drake would allow me to make modifications to company equipment, especially if he knew why I was doing so. I could sneak in after hours, say I’m working late, but-”

Anne slammed her hands on the table. Skirth could see in Weying’s face that her nerves were stripped raw. She was angry, she was scared, and she currently didn’t care enough to hide it anymore.

“How. Long.”

Skirth clenched and unclenched her fists as she ran through her mental calculations, letting the repeated bite of nails digging into her palms steady her. “Two weeks.”

Weying pushed out a breath through her teeth, sweeping her hair back one-handedly. “Does she even have two weeks?”

Skirth wanted to reassure her, wanted to promise that they could save Brock. Instead, she told her the truth.

“I don’t know.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Peter didn’t know what he was hoping to accomplish with this.

He’d begun investigating the Life Foundation a couple months ago, after hearing some rumors that Carlton Drake was involved in extraterrestrial experimentation. At first things had looked promising. Drake was definitely hiding something: why else would there be so much confidential work going on in the laboratories?

The issue was that ‘confidential’ meant ‘not on a need-to-know basis for just anyone.’ Even with the job he’d taken at the Foundation (under the name ‘Ben Reilly’- he didn’t want to risk Drake knowing who he was if things went south), Peter still hadn’t been able to find so much as a tissue with suspicious snot. Certainly he hadn’t found evidence of aliens.

_It could be just another sketchy company- lots of secrets, but nothing to do with aliens,_ he reasoned.

The thought made a weight form in his gut.

It wasn’t that he necessarily _wanted_ the Life Foundation to be experimenting on aliens. He wasn’t hoping for some hapless extraterrestrials to be trapped in cages, waiting to be cut open and studied. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

_It would just be nice to find others like me._

He stared in the mirror. The blond wig and glasses didn’t exactly turn him into a different person, but it was an effective enough disguise- Aunt May might recognize him, but it wasn’t her he was looking to fool.

_I should be used to wearing someone else’s face, taking someone else’s name. I’ve been doing it for all these years._

The scent of his sweat was suddenly sharp and foreign. His skin prickled. His vision swam. His mouth felt sticky. He parted his lips slightly, choking a little when he saw the white threads threatening to spill out.

_Faker. Pretender. Imposter._

He forced his mouth and his eyes shut, breathing deeply. When he looked in the mirror again, everything was fine. It was just him, Peter Parker, another normal human being.

He’d picked ‘Ben’ randomly, when he’d decided to go undercover. Now the name made him think of Uncle Ben. It felt wrong, somehow.

_It shouldn’t. It’s just another dead man’s name I’ll be taking._

But Peter hadn’t been a man. He’d been a boy when he’d died.

Absently he wondered what the real Peter would’ve thought of him, walking around in stolen skin, living a life that by all rights should’ve been cut off.

_Why would he do this?_ Peter asked himself.

The answer came more quickly than he’d expected.

_Peter would’ve done this to help people._

He wanted for there to be others like him, yes. He wanted to know that someone out there understood how he felt, stranded and desperately alone, even though he was surrounded by people every day. But the important thing was to make sure that the Life Foundation was exposed for whatever wrongdoings it committed behind closed doors. It was why the real Peter would’ve done it.

The weight in his gut lessened, but it didn’t go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Petey boy is in this! Sort of.  
> I know ya'll are here for romance between genderbent Eddie and alien goop, and I'm sorry if all the jumping between characters is annoying. Next chapter is all about our star-crossed lovers, I promise.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Vivi tells Edie that she's pretty. Also some other things.

Edie was at home.

Not her apartment, but her house, the Brock house.

She looked in the mirror and smiled. She’d put on her new yellow sundress with the white ribbon at the waist. Edie gave a little twirl, letting the skirt flare around her legs. Behind her, she heard a laugh.

“You’re so cute, little sis,” a taller, thinner girl chuckled as she wrapped an arm around Edie’s waist and squeezed lightly.

Edie frowned. “I’m not that little anymore, Mary.”

“That’s right, you’re ten today.” Mary grinned and ruffled Edie’s hair.

Edie returned her attention to the mirror, her frown gone but her expression still somber. Mary glanced down, her own smile fading as she scanned her sister’s face.

“What’s wrong? Feeling old already?” she teased, pinching Edie’s cheek.

Edie’s lips twitched as her eyes dropped. “Do you think Dad remembers it’s my birthday?”

Mary rested her chin on the top of Edie’s blond bob cut. “Of course he does. He’s the one who bought all your presents, you know.”

“Did he pick them out?”

“…I helped. Point is, he knows it’s your birthday.”

Edie sighed. “So he just doesn’t care.”

It was Mary’s turn to frown. “What do you mean?”

Edie blinked, her reflection starting to blur as water distorted her vision. “He’s never wished me a happy birthday, Mary. I went up to him today, and I asked him, ‘Do you know what day it is?’ And he just said, ‘Tuesday.’”

Mary hugged her tighter. “Maybe it was a joke.”

“Dad never jokes.” Edie wriggled free of Mary’s grip.

“Edie-”

She turned and threw her arms around her big sister, closing her eyes as she rested her head on Mary’s shoulder.

“Why doesn’t he care, Mary?” she whispered as tears dripped down her cheeks.

Mary didn’t reply, couldn’t reply, except to return Edie’s embrace and let out a deep breath.

Then Edie opened her eyes.

She wasn’t at home.

She was in a cave, wearing a purple shirt that might’ve been Anne’s once, and her nice jeans. It was not her birthday, she was significantly older than ten, and the only other person with her was not her sister but an alien that was currently possessing- no, _sharing_ her body. A very important distinction, that.

_Speak of the devil,_ she thought as she felt something stir in the back of her skull.

**Technically, you weren’t speaking.**

_Okay, okay, no need to nitpick._

**What was that?**

Edie blinked. _What was what?_

**That memory.**

_You saw that?_

She felt Vivi moving underneath her skin. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, per se, but there was something infinitely disturbing about the sensation of not-quite-liquid substance shifting around her bones, pressing against her insides just enough for her to be aware of it.

**I did not mean to intrude. Was it a private memory?**

Edie shrugged. _Hey, you’re literally inside my head. I don’t think the typical definition of private applies here. Anyway, it wasn’t a big deal._

**That memory was not of particular significance to you?**

_Not really, no._

**You were crying.**

_Well, yeah. Kids get upset, they cry. I was upset._

**You are not a child anymore.**

_I mean, depends on who you ask, but yeah, I’m legally an adult._

**But you were still crying.**

As Edie paused to try and make sense of this statement, she became aware of the taste of salt on her lips. She reached up so that her hand brushed her face. Her fingers came away damp.

**It is not only children who react in such a way when their emotional state is negative. You were upset, and you were crying.**

_Seems like it,_ Edie agreed, her stomach suddenly tight. _I guess parental neglect had a bigger effect on me than I thought, huh?_

A black tendril slid out from her wrist and wrapped around her hand. She laughed nervously.

“Um, whatcha’ doing there, Viv?”

**In your culture this a gesture of comfort, is it not?**

“Oh. It can be, I guess. Thanks.”

**You are welcome.**

Edie let her eyes close again, only for them to snap open as a new thought occurred to her.

“Wait, so if you can read my mind, how come you don’t instantly understand everything I’m thinking?”

The tendril cradling her palm split into several tendrils, intertwining with Edie’s fingers. **It is like…reading a book. Your thoughts are on one page, the meaning is on another. I can only see one page at a time, and I cannot always understand what I see.**

“Reading comprehension. Only, thought-reading comprehension. Heh, sounds like a course in a school for psychics.”

Edie felt a rush of amusement, more vivid than her own.

_You have a thing for lame humor too, huh?_

**I find your jocularity charming.**

_“Jocularity?”_

**Your humor.**

_No, I know what you meant, it’s just…“jocularity” is one of those words your teacher asks you to use in a sentence, but then you never use it again._

**It is a word meant to be used only in an academic setting?**

_Not exactly…sorry, I’m explaining this badly. There’s nothing wrong with using the word “jocularity,” it’s just weird hearing it tossed out like that so casually. Most people don’t say stuff like, “oh ho, what a charming bit of jocularity.”_

**Is it inappropriate to do so?**

_Nah, it’s fine to talk like that. Most people just don’t. Anyway, it’s easier to use words that everyone knows the meaning of, so you don’t have to explain yourself._

**But if I say I enjoy how you uphold your jocular demeanor despite disfavorable circumstances, you understand me without need of explanation, correct?**

_Well, yeah. I’m a journalist, so knowing fancy words comes in handy if I want to spice up a piece I’m writing. Besides, the more words I know, the easier it is to sniff out BS when some billionaire CEO is using fancy vocab to pretty up the garbage they’re spewing._

**You do not generally use ‘fancy vocab,’ I gather.**

_I’ve always been a more ‘say what I’m thinking and regret it later’ type of talker. I guess that’s what got me into this mess in the first place._

The tendrils twined around Edie’s hand withdrew only to slide up her arm and onto her shoulder, artificial fingers resting at the base of her neck.

**How so?**

Edie turned over. Unfortunately, the cavern floor wasn’t any more comfortable when lying on her other side.

_I…it was just supposed to be an interview. I could’ve just asked him a few softball questions, been in and out, left the rest of it well enough alone. Instead, I poked the bear._

She startled as she felt something move around inside her head. There was a slight pressure at the base of her skull, a mild tickling sensation moving slowly upwards to her brain, then- nothing. No- not quite nothing- mental sensations taking place of the physical, the feeling of Vivi flipping through her memories.

**Drake had you brought here.**

_Far as I can figure, yeah. Apparently he sent one of his assistants to make sure I was thrown in here properly or something._

**He wants you dead.**

_Yep._

**He thought…**

Edie could sense there was more to the thought, but it was cut off before she could tell what it was.

_Thought what?_

**He thought I would kill you.**

Edie shrugged. _To be honest, I thought you were gonna kill me too._

There was a shock of pain, of _hurt,_ and Edie found herself blinking back tears as her chest tightened. She shook her head a little, reaching up and touching the nape of her neck where she’d felt Vivi climb up to her brain.

**Because you thought I was a monster.**

_I mean, what was I supposed to think you were? A unicorn?_

**Did you know about the others?**

She frowned. _Others?_

**The ones before you.**

_I’m not the first? And here I thought I was special._

**They thought I was a monster too.**

Edie rested her palm on the back of her neck. Vivi didn’t exactly have a hand to hold, but hopefully the sentiment of a comforting gesture would get through to them. “I don’t think you’re a monster, you know.”

Vivi seized up, unsure how to respond to the irrational _anger_ they felt at her words. She was saying what they’d wanted to hear, wasn’t she? They should be relieved, grateful, happy even.

Instead, they let the pulse of rage flare through their bond, hissing as they withdrew from her.

**Oh, you don’t?**

Edie suddenly felt a rush of heat, then a chill, and then… _emptiness._ There was a hunger in her bones, one less distinct but more violent than the one in her stomach: a dull pain as her body cried out for something to fill the void that had opened up inside her.

Her eyes flickered upward. There was a mass, a seething, roiling black mass, looming above her. It simultaneously seemed to be drawing toward her and pulling away from her, and she got the impression that it was tearing itself apart.

She should’ve been scared, and she was, but not for herself.

“What are you doing? Cut it out!” she snapped, sitting upright.

The mass swelled in response, thrashing and twisting in a way that made Edie wince.

“Quit it! You’re going to hurt yourself!”

The mass stilled instantly. Two white spots formed at eye level with Edie, then vanished as the mass melted onto the floor and slithered over to her, sliding into her skin. Warmth spilled through her, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

**You really don’t think I’m a monster.**

_Well, duh. Didn’t I just say that?_

**You meant it.**

_Mm. I say what I think, for better or worse. What, did you think I was lying?_

Vivi stirred a little, oozing out from between Edie’s fingers to coat the back of her hand. The two white spots reappeared, staring up at Edie with more expression than she would’ve expected what looked like a couple of paint splotches to have.

**I thought you were different from the others. I was right.**

_Yeah…speaking of the ‘others,’ what exactly happened to them?_

The eye spots blinked. It was such a cartoonish gesture that Edie might have laughed if not for what Vivi said next.

**I ate them.**

Edie choked. “Wait, what?”

**I ate their bodies,** Vivi explained, squeezing around Edie’s hand in what was presumably another attempt at comfort. **They were always dead beforehand.**

“Oh, okay, good. I think. So, when I’m dead, are you gonna eat my corpse? Because I’d like some evidence left behind when the police find out what happened to me.”

**I will _not_ eat you.**

“Mm-hm. Then when my body’s found-”

**You say that as if you’re going to die.**

“Yeah I’m going to die. Everyone dies. Thing is, I’m going to die because of Carlton Drake and the Death Foundation, and when I’m gone I want everyone to know that.”

**You are not going to die.**

“Unless symbiosis keeps me from starving or something, I’m pretty sure my life expectancy is not great.”

**I will not let you die.**

“…Thanks, but can you actually stop me from dying? I mean, I need stuff like food and water. Hey, do Klyntar need to eat?”

**That is why I consumed the others after they died. There was no hope of saving them, and I needed to sustain myself.**

“Okay. How long has it been since you’ve last eaten?”

**…I do not know. Time is difficult here.**

“Well, I’m pretty sure I’m going to be dead of dehydration long before anyone figures out where I am. So when I’m dead, if you really, really need to-”

**You are very morbid. And I already said I’m not eating you.**

“Hey, I’m in the underground cave headquarters of some death cult with an alien who’s been eating corpses to survive. Excuse me if I’m not all sunshine and rainbows.”

**Why would you urge me to devour your remains? That seems a step removed from mere pessimism.**

“I’m not _urging_ you. I’m just saying, if I die and you start starving to death, I won’t be mad if you…y’know.”

**You aren’t disturbed that I’ve admitted to imbibing human flesh?**

“Heck yeah I’m disturbed, but you did what you needed to do to keep going. I respect that. Anyway, you already said none of them were alive when they landed on the menu. And they were humans, right? It’s not like you were eating other Klyntar.”

Vivi spilled down between Edie’s fingers into her lap, reforming their eyespots on top of her knees as she pulled her legs up to her chest.

**You’re awfully calm for someone in your situation.**

“Trust me, I’m panicking on the inside.”

As the words left her mouth, Edie realized how true her statement rang. A swell of panic that she’d been holding back determinedly, refusing to acknowledge, was rushing forward full force.

_Oh._

She felt her throat clench.

_I’m going to die here._

She wrapped her arms around herself. Her skin was cold.

_No one knows where I am._

_I might not be found._

She forced herself to breathe. In, out. In, out.

_My body could rot here for years and years, and no one would find me._

Her breaths were coming and going too fast. She couldn’t stop.

_I’m going to die._

_I’m going to die._

_I’m going to-_

**_No._ **

Edie blinked. _What?_

**No. You will not die.**

She laughed, a dry wheeze that made her stomach hurt. _Because you won’t let me?_

**Yes.**

_And why is that, huh? Why do you care so much? Why should it matter to you if I become a corpse?_

Edie felt a faint pressure on her cheek and realized there was a tendril cradling her face. Her immediate instinct was to flinch and pull away, which clashed with the irrational, sudden temptation to lean _into_ the touch, to trap the tendril between her cheek and her palm and prevent the end of the contact. Instead of committing to either extreme, her body compromised by remaining totally motionless.

**The others died because they would not let me help them. You are letting me help you.**

Edie stared at the white eyespots gazing up at her, trying to identify the emotion they were conveying. _You’re avoiding the question._

Vivi formed another tendril to mirror the first, framing the lower half of Edie’s face. The black of their form contrasted against the near-white of the human’s skin, highlighting the blotches of pink in her cheeks and turning the blue of her eyes so bright it burned.

**You are beautiful.**

Edie laughed again, though it was more of a good-humored giggle that she had tried and failed to restrain. Vivi basked in its warmth and soaked up the heat of her skin as Edie’s face flushed scarlet.

“So you won’t let me die because you’re a sucker for a pretty face, huh?” she teased, running a hand through her hair.

Vivi followed the track of her fingers with their eyes. Her hair looked soft.

**Yes.**

Edie raised an eyebrow. “You know, for a goop alien who’s been living in a cave for however long, you’re pretty dang smooth.”

**Smooth,** they echoed absentmindedly, most of their attention still focused on the shock of blond that was sticking up at odd angles since its disturbance.

“Yeah. Like, suave, not literally smooth, though I guess you’re that too.”

Impulsively she stroked between Vivi’s eyespots with two fingers. The texture _was_ smooth- slick as ice, but soft and warm and pulsing faintly, like a heartbeat given solid form.

Vivi shivered, withdrawing their tendrils.

Edie blinked as she felt a throb of discomfort, uncertainty, _fear,_ spill across their bond, biting her lip so sharply she didn’t realize it hurt until after she tasted blood. “Crap- sorry, did I hurt you?”

Vivi shivered again, seeming to relax as they did so. **No. It’s fine.**

“If it made you uncomfortable, I won’t-”

**It’s fine. That was…unexpected, but it wasn’t unpleasant.**

Edie wrapped her arms around her knees, curling up so that she was eye level with the white spots watching her unblinkingly. “Can I do it again?”

**…If you like.**

She lifted a hand towards the black mass coating her legs, but hesitated before she made contact. Vivi rippled gently, reaching a tendril to pull Edie’s hand onto their mass. As she began to stroke, they pressed into the touch.

**This is comforting for you.**

_Yeah. It’s kinda like petting a cat._

**I like this too. It feels nice.**

They stayed like that for a while, Edie running her fingers along Vivi’s form in long, slow strokes while Vivi pushed up into her hand, reveling in the rough-gentle scratch of her calloused fingertips.

As Edie’s eyes drifted shut, she was dimly aware of her hand being caressed by the near-liquid dark flowing over her body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter- Anne and Dora teaming up to find our favorite lesbian reporter! Also Peter doing stuff.


	9. Chapter 9

Carlton generally wasn’t terribly concerned with details, but that didn’t mean he didn’t notice them.

Although he wanted to be kept abreast of all scientific developments made in the Foundation labs, he preferred concise explanations that could present the big picture without the needless clutter of every single aspect being described. Not that he had difficulty understanding the technical babble that his lab teams tended to spout, but knowing all the details of each experiment was unnecessary, and frankly, annoying. He wasn’t interested in the _how,_ he wanted to know what the _results_ were.

That didn’t mean he was unaware of the effect the little things could have on the larger operation. For instance, Dora Skirth on her own didn’t amount to much. She was a capable asset, but not an irreplaceable one. The issue was she seemed to have a stricter morality, one that pronounced that the Foundation’s work strayed too far outside the boundaries of what was ‘acceptable.’

The good doctor was an intelligent woman. She knew the consequences should her morality interfere with Drake’s goals.

Unfortunately, it seemed she was willing to accept those consequences.

Drake scanned the report one of his men had sent in. Enclosed were several photos of Dr. Skirth entering and exiting the police station. 

“Well now. Don’t you remember the policy on initiating contact with the authorities, Skirth?” he murmured, flipping through the photos.

She did, of course. He knew she did. He would never let any of his more... _involved_ employees forget.

Picking up his phone, he dialed a number that he’d memorized rather than keep in his contacts.

A quiet voice answered on the other end of the line. “Mr. Drake?”

“Dr. Skirth has been careless. Disciplinary action is required.”

He hung up knowing there wouldn’t be an answer. None would be necessary. It would be taken care of.

It _was_ rather a shame. Skirth’s parents seemed to be such nice people.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Wednesday 4:28 a.m.

Anne: Progress?

S: Almost there. Can’t scan until done.

Anne: How are you holding up?

S: I’m okay.

S: Sort of.

S: Drake knows he’s lost his only leverage over me. Have to stay alert

Anne: We’ll make him pay. I promise.

Thursday 3:47 a.m.

S: We might have a problem.

Anne: You get made?

S: Maybe. Every night for the last two weeks, there’s been this guy there after hours

Anne: Drake’s guy?

S: Not sure. He’s a new hire

S: Drake already has people to keep eyes out for him

S: But he knows that I know who his spies are

S: If he suspects me, he might’ve asked the new guy to watch me instead

Anne: You get his name?

S: His nametag said Ben Reilly

Anne: I’ll look him up. Might be able to get him off your back somehow.

Friday 5:13 a.m.

S: Anything on Reilly?

Anne: Not yet. Progress?

S: Finished. Started scan but didn’t get far.

Anne: Anyplace I should check out?

S: Only significant power source in the area was the Foundation’s.

S: And there’s no secret cult cave in the basement here, I’ve checked.

Anne: Do not joke about this.

S: What makes you think I would joke about this?

Anne: Sorry. I know you’re taking this seriously.

Anne: It sounded a bit like a joke she might make.

S: Well, I actually did check. Foundation has plenty of underground rooms, but nothing resembling the caverns.

Anne: Can you get pictures of the rooms?

S: Yes, why?

Anne: Got an idea, but it’ll take a while. Keep going, I’ll see what I can find on Reilly.

Saturday 3:59 a.m.

S: Nothing on the scan so far.

Anne: Nothing on Reilly either. Can you get me a picture of him?

S: Ok.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Peter tensed as he heard the elevator door opening. Facing the one of the several glass walls that cut the lab into several smaller rooms, he checked the reflection as footsteps clicked on the tile floor behind him.

It was _her_ again.

For the last couple weeks, she’d stayed after hours just as he had, shooting nervous glances in his direction whenever they’d passed each other in the hallway. She never lingered, and her face was constantly set in the ‘deer-in-the-headlights’ expression.

She was too nervous to be a spy. If Drake had caught wind of what he was doing, Peter doubted he would’ve sent one jumpy scientist to scout out his actions. If anything, _she_ appeared to have her own secret agenda.

“Excuse me.”

He’d have noticed her approaching even without seeing her reflection in the glass. Her hand was shaking as it tapped his shoulder.

Dora struggled to keep her voice from trembling. “I…um, have we met before?”

Reilly smiled at her. Behind his thick-rimmed glasses, his brown eyes were warm and soothing, very unlike the hard-edged glares of the various goons Drake normally hired to ‘supervise’ matters.

“Not officially, I think.” He held out his hand. “Ben Reilly.”

She shook his hand carefully. His grip was firm, and she had the vivid impression that he was much stronger than his lean frame would indicate. “Dora Skirth.”

“Nice to officially meet you, Dr. Skirth.”

She glanced down at her nametag briefly, fiddling with her hands. “So…this might seem a bit odd, but could I take a photo of you?”

He squinted at her, his expression mildly bemused, but not suspicious. “Amateur photographer?”

“Something like that,” she agreed, relieved that her explanation had been provided for her.

“Okay. Thanks for asking permission first. Hey, do you want me to pose?”

He turned his back to her and looked over his shoulder, hands on his hips. “How’s this?”

She laughed, pulling out her phone to take the picture. “Perfect.”

He laughed too, turning back around so that he was no longer posing like a coquettish ingenue. “If you want to take a more dignified photo, you can do that too.”

Dora shook her head lightly, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. “It’s fine. Thanks for indulging me.”

“No problem. I’m not a bad photographer, if I do say so myself- maybe we could compare portfolios sometime.”

“Sure.”

They stood there, facing each other. Peter coughed into his fist.

“So, is there anything else you needed to do down here, or…?”

Dora flinched. “Oh. Right, yeah, I still have to…science.”

Peter nodded. “Yep. Science.”

“I’m going to walk down the hallway now.”

“You do that.”

Skirth spun on her heel and sped-walked away, uncomfortably aware of the brown-eyed gaze following her.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Monday 12:47 a.m.

S: Here’s the photo.

Anne: Good work. I’ll run him through the system.

Anne: Any progress on the scan?

S: There’s a couple energy hot spots, but nothing out of place. Unless there’s a secret cavern under Sam’s Electronics, I don’t think there’s anyplace you need to check.

Anne: Keep going.

Anne stared at her last message, the first pangs of regret snipping at her.

_Sorry. You don’t need me to tell you to hurry, Skirth._

_I’m just scared for her._

How much time do you think she has left? she typed instead.

_It’s been nearly three weeks. Even assuming she has a fresh water source, how long until she starves?_

_That’s assuming her wounds aren’t too severe. If she has internal bleeding-_

Anne shook her head and deleted her unsent text.

_Focus._

_I’ll find her._

She didn’t allow herself to dwell on whether Edie would still be alive or not when she did.

Tuesday 1:48 a.m.

Anne: Ran the pic through the system. Turns out, Reilly is actually some guy named Peter Parker.

S: He’s working under a pseudonym?

Anne: Looks like it.

S: Why would he need to work under a false name?

Anne: Not sure. He’s a reporter, maybe he goes undercover to investigate his scoops?

S: Think he’ll be a problem?

Anne: Don’t know. Doesn’t look like it, but keep an eye on him just in case.

Anne: Do you want me to come to the funeral?

S: No. You didn’t know them, and a police officer in my vicinity seemingly without any preexisting connection to me or my family will raise too many red flags for Drake.

S: I appreciate the sentiment, though. Thank you.

Anne: You said they’d want you to do the right thing.

Anne: They’d be proud.

S: They would.

S: Can I ask you a favor?

Anne: Ok.

S: Promise me that if this goes sideways

S: You’ll make sure Drake gets what he deserves anyway.

Anne: I’m a police officer.

Anne: Why are you asking me for this?

S: Because my parents wouldn’t want me to become a murderer because of someone like Drake.

Anne: And you think asking someone to become a murderer for you is any better?

S: I’m guessing that means this isn’t a favor you’re willing to grant.

Anne: That’s a crime, not a favor.

S: So is what he did to my parents.

S: And I won’t ever be able to prove that he did it.

S: If this goes wrong, he could get away with all of this.

Anne: Then let’s make sure this doesn’t go wrong.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

_Proof._

Peter pulled the test tube out of his jacket pocket, rolling it between his fingers and thumb as he savored the word.

_Proof._

He’d finally gotten his hands on- something. He still wasn’t entirely sure _what,_ exactly, but it was definitely a substance of extraterrestrial origin. Even through the glass, he could scent the hint of things long forgotten, reminders of galaxies far beyond the one he resided in now.

He wondered vaguely if the sample had been acquired from the same craft he’d arrived in. It wasn’t impossible- there had been several other lifeforms in the same scouting party. He hadn’t been the only Arachnakine, but the other species had definitely outnumbered his own.

_“It’ll be perfectly safe,” the instructor had assured them. “We’ll scout an area free of the planet’s sapient lifeforms. We’ll observe the non-sapient fauna and flora. You and your scouting partner will collaborate on primary and secondary reports. Any further questions?”_

_“Oscorp is one of the leading scientific pioneers of our time. Here you can observe one of their many acquisitions, an unusual species of spider whose genus appears to be heretofore undiscovered.”_

**Let me out.**

_Peter squirmed as he stared at the giant arachnid in the glass enclosure. Ordinarily he didn’t mind bugs- he’d even asked Aunt May if he could have a pet tarantula at one point, though naturally she’d told him no- but the spider in the case was unnerving. Not because of its size, though it was unnaturally huge, but because of its eyes. They were too expressive, too intelligent. They looked…afraid._

**He’s staring at me.**

**Does he know?**

_“If you are separated from the group, stay put. If you see any of the indigenous sapient life, avoid them. Some of you are similar enough in appearance to local fauna or flora that you may utilize your similarities as camouflage. However, do not attempt imitation of the sapient. Above all, do not attempt to communicate with the sapient. Currently their response to extraterrestrial contact has been…inconsistent.”_

_Peter stumbled as the ground beneath him shook. He pitched forward, slamming into the glass enclosure where the spider with too-smart eyes peered out. There was a loud crack as his skull collided with the thick glass._

**Seismic activity. I thought it was a regular occurrence on this planet, but he seems unused to it.**

**He’s fallen now. There’s sanguinary fluid issuing from a wound on his head.**

**He isn’t moving.**

_The enclosure tipped as the ground beneath it rolled. The glass shattered, breaking irregularly around where Peter’s body lay._

_The spider skittered out, uncertain and afraid. Separation from the scouting party had resulted in her capture. Now, she was trapped in a building, surrounded by sapient life, and liable to be discovered at any moment._

_“Peter? Hey, Peter, are you okay?”_

_The spider glanced over at the body on the floor._

**He must be Peter.**

_She moved quickly. She’d never attempted it before, but she’d seen it done. Arachnakine were no shapeshifters like the Skrull, but camouflage was far from a weak spot for her species._

_She slipped into the human’s skin, bending awkwardly as she forced herself to fit. She aligned their nervous systems, and-_

“Peter?”

He jolted out of his reverie, realizing he’d been standing at his own front door while staring at the test tube in his hand for the last few minutes. He looked up, seeing a familiar old lady with an equally familiar exasperated expression standing on the porch steps.

“Hi, Aunt May. Sorry I’m late.”

Aunt May crossed her arms, pulling her shawl closer around her shoulders. “Does Jameson have you working on that ridiculous Spider thing again?”

“He always has me working on it. I’m the only one who ever has any decent photos of him, remember?”

She sighed, pressing a hand to her temple. “I remember. Just don’t let Jameson bully you into putting yourself in harm’s way for the sake of a few snapshots.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek before opening the door for her. “Yes ma’am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Death count so far: 3 (Nkemdilim and Mr. and Mrs. Skirth)  
> Four if you count Peter, but technically all that happened before the events of this story.  
> Also Gwen Stacy is dead. And some other people who died in the Kasady shooting. Wow, I really like killing off minor characters.  
> The timeline's a bit wonky- first it's Drake's POV paragraph, then a time jump of two weeks to all the messages.  
> Sorry if the last section is a little incoherent. Flashback exposition for the win!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo Lemily I updated

Edie was someplace she’d never been before.

It was a wide, circular room, with curving metal walls that had large windows set into them. The view outside was blurred, and the only distinct thing she could make out about it were the spots of white, blue, and red that flashed by against a background of dark purple.

She walked up to the nearest window and pressed her hand to the glass. There was no reflection. She breathed on it, but it didn’t fog.

Drawing invisible shapes on the window with no fear of leaving smudges, Edie became aware of a presence at her back. She didn’t turn around to address them when she spoke.

“So, where are we this time?”

In her peripheral vision, she could see tenebrous claws curling around her shoulder as she felt the weight of a giant palm press on her forearm.

“ **The Turunal system, near Kree-Lar**.”

Vivi’s voice was clearer when they took on a distinct form, and the growl-purr of their speech made them feel much more present. Even though Vivi had sounded dissonant and strange to Edie at first, she had quickly grown to find the alien rumble of their words comforting, almost soothing.

“Kree-Lar. That’s the Kree homeworld, right?”

“ **Not exactly. Hala is where the Kree originated, but for a time, the planet Kree-Lar acted as their base of operations,** ” Vivi explained.

“Right. They had to move because of their war with the Skrull.”

“ **Because of one of their wars with the Skrull, yes.** ”

“Yeah, the Kree and the Skrull went at it a lot, didn’t they?”

“ **From what I am aware of, they are still ‘going at it.’ They were in the middle of a war when we were brought to Earth.** ”

Edie glanced around. “Is that what this memory is? You being sent to Earth?”

“ **I believe so.** ”

“You’re not sure?”

Edie turned her head so that she could see Vivi’s face, her nose nearly bumping into Vivi’s mouth as she looked up at them.

As she watched them answer, she realized how quickly she’d adjusted to the sight of Vivi’s visage. The white crescents of their paint-splotch eyes, the needle-like teeth set in between their inky cheeks, the flicker of their long, _long_ tongue appearing and disappearing briefly when they talked- it would’ve been grotesque to anyone upon first seeing it. It still should’ve been grotesque. Edie should’ve been at least a little frightened of their unwavering, ever-attentive gaze, or the way their ‘skin’ shifted and moved and pulsed, or the fact that there never seemed to be quite the same amount of teeth there each time they opened their mouth, or…

_Wait. What are they saying?_

“ **…since our masters didn’t wish to risk any valuable information we might acquire to be accessible to the enemy, we were trained to seal memories away. In addition to being a method for storing information with less chance of it falling into the wrong hands, it was an effective way of dealing with trauma that could compromise our performance,** ” Vivi finished.

Edie blinked. “Wait. You’re telling me that Klyntar deal with their PTSD by just…forgetting what caused it?”

“ **Hm. My kind are utilized as tools, remember? If a tool is too broken, it is thrown out. Given the choice to forget or to die, we chose to forget. Would you have made a different choice?** ”

“I mean, I would’ve chosen to punch anyone who tried to limit me to those choices, but I’m human. Humans are stubborn, and stupid, and don’t really have a concept of when to just…not. Or maybe that’s just me.”

Vivi’s form rippled, and their eyes curved into a mouthless smile. Even without the wave of warmth that accompanied it, Edie would’ve known Vivi was laughing.

“ **I cannot say whether you are the only human with those qualities, but I can say that you are one of a kind.** ”

Edie felt her cheeks pinken. “Uh, well…that’s sweet, but I’m pretty sure that’s not true. Dumb blondes like me are a dime a dozen out there. I’m not exactly unique.”

She was suddenly aware of the hand cradling her cheek, black claw tips resting lightly on her temple.

“ **Perhaps you aren’t,** ” Vivi agreed.

Edie felt her chest tighten. _Yeah, I’m not special, but I don’t need to hear it from you, too._

“ **Perhaps you are just another one of many. Every trait you possess, every quality that defines you, everything about you can be found in somebody else. Perhaps there is someone in possession of a similar combination of your qualities, or multiple someones.** ”

They leaned forward, their forehead pressing against Edie’s, and she realized they had a scent. How could she have not noticed they had a scent? She’d been inhumanly close to them for however long, and never once noticed they had an odor of any kind, but now all she could focus on was how they smelled a little bit like molasses and a bit like hot metal, the slick-but-not-wet warmth of their form pressing against her clothes, and the light scratch of their claws as they traced her cheek.

A single claw came to rest on her bottom lip. She had the random urge to bite it, to see if Vivi had a taste as well as a sound and a scent and a feel.

“ **But regardless of whether there is anything about you that is unique, I am certain of one thing,** ” they murmured, their jaw brushing her ear.

Her pulse was throbbing so violently Edie was sure she was shaking with the force of it. The inside of her skull vibrated as Vivi cupped the back of her head with their other hand, slowly running their thumb along the nape of her neck as they whispered.

“ **You are special to me, Edie.** ”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Vivi cradled Edie’s head as they felt her wake. She didn’t open her eyes, instead reaching up sightlessly so that her hand hovered somewhere above her ear. They slid onto her cheek, pressing up into her palm. She stroked them, her fingers pressing into their form as they relaxed around her touch.

“ **Are you distressed?** ” they inquired.

Her mouth curved into a half-smile. “No, I’m Edie.”

“ **Your heart rate is elevated.** ”

Her hand paused mid-stroke before resuming its movements. “I’m just…thinking. About stuff.”

Vivi curved around Edie’s cheek, forming a small face so they could face her as she opened her eyes.

“ **What sort of ‘stuff?’** ”

Vivi extended a cluster of tendrils, running them over Edie’s scalp. They’d learned fairly early on that Edie found having her head stroked soothing, and the gesture’s effectiveness seemed to have increased with time. Edie pressed into their touch as they had to hers, releasing a deep sigh as she squeezed her fingers into a fist and splayed them open alternately.

“You know…life, death, existence, meaning, purpose, all that junk people contemplate when they have too much time.”

_(Or not enough.)_

Vivi gently encased her wrist in their form, feeling her pulse throb sharply against her skin.

“ **Is that what is causing your distress?** ”

Edie sucked on her lip. “Probably what’s causing some of it, yeah.”

“ **But not all.** ”

They focused in on the half-thoughts swimming in the back of her mind.

_(How much longer do I have to live?)_

_(Is Anne looking for me?)_

_(Is anyone looking for me?)_

_(Drake had better not get away with this.)_

_(What will happen when I die?)_

_(How long has it been?)_

_(I’m glad Vivi’s here.)_

_(What will happen to them when I’m gone?)_

_(I don’t want to leave Vivi.)_

_I don’t want to leave you._

The last thought was directed at them, fully formed and clear as the blue Earthen sky that they’d only seen in others’ memories.

They threaded tendrils in between her fingers in an imitation of holding hands, squeezing her palm gently.

**I don’t want you to leave.**

Vivi knew now that it had been foolish to promise they wouldn’t let her die, and the awareness that it was a vow they could not keep only grew with time. Edie had made it clear that she had no intention of holding them to an impossible promise, but somehow that only made it worse.

The guilt ran through them, hot and sharp, pricking at their insides. The wave of emotion carried through their bond, and they glimpsed tears welling up in Edie’s eyes.

She sniffed, wiping her eyes, and pressed her free hand to the side of Vivi’s face.

“Hey. It’s okay.”

They leaned into her warmth, trying to memorize the feel of her skin. More tears formed in Edie’s eyes, but it wasn’t her sadness producing them.

**No, it isn’t.**

Vivi felt the spark of an impulse jump between their bond, but Edie smothered it before they could ascertain what the thought was.

**What was that?**

She shrugged, wrapping her arms around them. “It’s nothing.”

**It was something.**

“Not the right time for it. Anyway, I don’t…well, I’m not sure I should…mnh, never mind.”

**And what would be the right time for ‘it,’ whatever ‘it’ is?**

“When you’re not upset. Although there might never be a right time for it anyway.”

They gave her a mental nudge. “ **Now I’m not upset. I’m curious.** ”

Edie sighed. “Probably was a bad idea. Just…it’s not important, okay?”

“ **If it’s unimportant, why should it matter if you tell me?** ”

Edie closed her eyes. “Okay then. Okay. Um. Uh…you know what? Screw it.”

The next moment, Vivi was aware of too many things at once- the heat of Edie’s skin, the rabbit-quick pulse of her heart, the scent of her hair, the press of her lips.

**Oh.**

She was kissing them. And for some reason, she was nervous about it. As if she was afraid they might find the gesture distasteful, or not return her affections.

They’d known, of course. They were close to her in a way no human ever could’ve been; of course they’d known how she felt about them. They thought they’d been as clear as they could be about their own feelings towards her, but evidently she hadn’t quite grasped the picture yet.

They imitated the press of her lips, pushing her mouth open just enough for them to brush their form against the tip of her tongue before pulling back slightly to gauge her reaction.

Her eyes were wide, her face flushed. Her pulse throbbed visibly in her throat as she gaped.

They grinned at her, a dozen needle-like teeth set in a smirk that should’ve terrified Edie. She did appear quite paralyzed, but fear didn’t seem to be the causal factor.

They purred, letting the rumble of it thrum against curve of her neck. She drew in a sharp breath.

**Are you cold?** they murmured.

She wasn’t, obviously. Her blood was running so hotly beneath her skin that it almost burned. She hesitated before answering. “Why ask?”

**You’re shivering. Here, let me warm you.**

They slid around her, embracing her, drinking in the rush of endorphins the act elicited.

Edie let out a shaky breath that trembled into a laugh. “You’re a tease, you know that?”

**You like it, don’t you.**

She pressed her hand to her heart, catching Vivi’s form between her palm and her chest, and squeezed lightly.

“Twerp. …Will you kiss me again?”

They leaned in, stopping just short of touching her face.

“ **Say please.** ”

Edie snorted and closed what little distance there was between them.

They gave another mental nudge. **You didn’t say please.**

Edie rolled her eyes and pulled them closer. _I’m dying, I’ll do what I want._

The guilt rolled back full force, hitting Edie through their bond like a punch to the face.

**(I’msorryIwantedtostopitIwanttostopitIwanttohelpIcan’thelpI’muselessIcan’tstopitI’muselessIdon’twantyoutoleaveI’muselessuselessuselesSUSELESS)**

The salt of her tears stung against her dry skin, and she pulled away slightly to cough into her hand.

“Hey.”

She gripped them tighter.

“Listen to me. You are _not_ useless. You helped me more than I think you’ll ever know, even if you can read my mind. And…”

Her voice broke. Edie wiped her eyes with her forearm and kept talking.

“I’m not leaving you, okay? I’m never leaving. I’m staying right here, with you, always. Got it?”

Vivi didn’t say anything, but Edie could feel a quiet acceptance bleed through the crushing guilt.

They lay there for a while, curled up in each other, each wondering about a promise made that couldn’t be kept.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Drake was looking out the window when Skirth entered his office. He glimpsed her reflection before she announced her presence.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

He turned slightly, enough to view her with his peripheral vision but not enough to make direct eye contact. “It’s come to my attention that you’ve been working on a little ‘after-hours’ project, Skirth.”

He glimpsed her stiffening posture, her widening eyes. “Project, sir?”

With a snort, he turned around fully. “I don’t believe I ever gave you permission to use company equipment for anything not relevant to the tests.”

Skirth made a delayed attempt at looking innocent, which accomplished nothing other than proving that it was a good thing she’d gone into science and not acting.

“I wasn’t aware I was doing anything irrelevant to the tests,” she replied, her voice flat. “Sir,” she added belatedly.

Drake raised an eyebrow. “And how, exactly, does tracking energy output relate to our subjects?”

Any weak pretense of ignorance dissolved as Skirth’s face drained of color. She inhaled deeply, steadying herself before answering.

“I’ve been looking for Pullman’s headquarters.”

Whatever response he’d been expecting, that wasn’t it. Drake forced his expression to stay neutral. It wouldn’t do to alert her that she’d caught him off guard.

“Skirth, I have a deal with Pullman. He assists me with my business, and I stay out of his. I’m not about to compromise our arrangement while it’s still in my favor.”

“I understand.” She licked her lips. “But if one of your employees discovered where Pullman operates without your knowledge or consent, you couldn’t be held responsible for that, could you?”

He sniffed. “I’m not sure Pullman would be convinced by that logic. Anyway, why are you so determined to learn where his base of operations lies?”

Skirth stared blankly at the floor. “There’s something…you know he’s hiding something in that cave. I want to find out what.”

Drake crossed his arms. “For what purpose?”

“I…I wanted it for myself. Something outside of all the experiments here, something I could work with for the good of people, not just science.” She clenched her hands into fists briefly before letting her fingers hang limply at her sides. “I wanted to remind myself I’m human, with curiosity and morals…not just a cog in a machine, serving someone else’s goals.”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive, Dr. Skirth. Whatever your ideals, they are not connected to your work. For all intents and purposes, you _are_ part of a machine here. Express your humanity elsewhere.”

Her eyebrows drew together, creasing her forehead. She inhaled sharply and gave a curt nod.

“Yes, sir.”

He raised a hand to indicate the conversation wasn’t over. “But seeing how you’ve already put so much effort into it, it would be a shame let your little pet project go to waste.”

Her brow wrinkled again, this time in confusion. “So you do want me to find Pullman’s headquarters?”

Drake shrugged. “That is your prerogative. However, as long as you’re aiming to do so, there’s something else you will do for me.”

She scowled, though she tried (and failed) to mask it. “As repayment for using company property, I suppose?”

“Naturally.”

“And how do you intend to repay me for killing my parents?”

Skirth seemed taken aback by her own words, but she exhibited no desire to retract them. Drake regarded her with half-lidded eyes, appearing nearly impressed.

“Your parents died in a car crash, Dr. Skirth. I fail to see how that could link to me in any manner.”

She didn’t hide her scowl this time. “What do you want?”

Skirth was used to seeing Drake smile. He would often assume an amiable manner when being interviewed, and even knowing what he was really like, it was hard not to be drawn in by the understanding tilt of his head, the empathetic attention in his eyes, the slight curve of his lips as if he might laugh any second.

She’d assumed all of it was a front. It was, mostly- all the little mannerisms he’d perfected to seem like a genuine, unpretentious human being vanishing the moment they were no longer needed. But his faint smile remained the same. His fake smile and real smile were so similar as to be indistinguishable.

And yet, as she watched him describe exactly what he wished her to do, both of them knowing she’d comply, she could not doubt that his pleased expression was genuine.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Peter wished he’d come up with a better name.

To be fair, he’d had no idea his escapades would be snapped up by the media. He’d tried to keep a low profile, and in the beginning, it’d worked. He’d been a cryptid, a local myth of sorts, and not even a particularly well-known one.

Then one day a pretty girl he’d rescued from a mugger asked him his name, and he’d had the bright idea to say, “Call me Spider.”

How was he to have known the girl was a reporter? And even if he had known, it wasn’t like there’d been any indication that she’d suggest ‘Spider’ as the next big story to her boss. There certainly hadn’t been any hint that her boss would _take_ that suggestion.

So now whenever he was patrolling, keeping an eye out for those who either needed help or needed to be stopped, people would recognize him as ‘Spider.’

He supposed it wasn’t the worst name. It wasn’t as if it was inaccurate. The problem might’ve been that it was a little _too_ accurate- a constant reminder of what he really was.

Not that Arachnakine and spiders were exactly the same, of course, but there was no denying that ‘spider’ would be the first thing humans would think upon seeing his kind.

“Spider?”

He flinched, looking down from the rooftop from where he was perched to see a blond woman in a police uniform standing on the sidewalk below.

Peter tipped an imaginary cap. “Officer.”

She motioned for him to come closer, and he obeyed, jumping off the roof and sticking to the wall of the building as he skittered down to the sidewalk like the spider he was.

Officer Blond nodded at him. “Can you help me with something?”

He looked up at her as he clung to the wall with his head near the ground. “I’d be happy to, but I’d need to know what the ‘something’ is first. Is it robbing a bank? I’m guessing it’s not robbing a bank.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Good guess. Actually, I am breaking into someplace. That’s why I want your help- I might need some backup.”

Peter unstuck his hands and flipped upright, sticking his back to the wall so he could cross his arms. “I’m guessing this ain’t an official police sting.”

“Nope.”

“Where, hypothetically, would we be breaking into?”

“If my information’s accurate, the secret headquarters of a cult of kidnappers and murderers.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Yikes. No wonder you want backup.”

The officer held out her hand. “Are you in?”

He considered her, putting a hand on his chin as he took in her determined expression.

“Why are you asking me? Why not ask a cop buddy?”

She blinked. “I…I don’t know exactly, I guess. I have friends on the force, but…we’re not close. They wouldn’t have any reason to help me.”

“They might help you because it’s the right thing to do?”

Officer Goldilocks snorted. “If you think everyone on the force is as altruistic as that, I’ve got news for you, buddy.” She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I mean, they’re good people, mostly. It’s just…they’re not looking to be heroes. They’ve got their own lives to be concerned about.”

“I _do_ have a life outside of this whole crime-fighting gig, you know,” Peter pointed out.

She shrugged. “Yeah, but from what I can tell, you’re willing to put yourself at risk to help other people, even if there’s nothing in it for you but some good press.”

“ _Some_ good press. You might’ve noticed the Daily Bugle doesn’t like me, or at least the editor-in-chief doesn’t. Anyway, that’s not the reason I do this. I do this to help people, and you need help.” He took her hand and shook it firmly. “I’m in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not important to the story, but the girl reporter Spidey saved is Betty Brant.  
> Wow, there hasn't been a character death since, like, last chapter. Time to fix that :)  
> Also this fanfiction is officially longer than my first book. Please go check that out by the way. Info's in the notes below.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back

Edie had always been the sort of person who bit off more than she could chew, so she wasn't sure why it’d been such a surprise to her when she choked.

_“I don’t have any further questions, Mr. Drake. I’m telling you that I know why Maria Lake disappeared, and you know too.”_

_Famous last words._

But if this was death, it wasn't so bad.

She was somewhere between sleeping and waking. She was close enough to the former that there was barely any awareness of the pain in her chest as her heart debated whether it was worth the effort to keep beating. Her eyes were open, though they weren’t really focused on anything.

**“Edie.”**

Vivi was there, formed right in front of her face if their voice gave any indication. Edie blinked, struggling to glimpse those paint-splotch eyes one more time.

**“Edie, the promise.”**

She smiled. “I’m not going anywhere, Vivi. I’m still here. I’m not leaving.”

_I just won’t be alive anymore, is all._

**“I made a promise too,”** Vivi reminded her.

Edie blinked as Vivi’s face came into focus. They seemed…smaller. Were they shrinking?

**I’m not letting you die.**

Her chest stopped hurting. Slowly, she sat upright, her breath shaky as consciousness hit her full force.

“Vivi?”

_Where are you?_

“Where did you go?”

_Why did you leave?_

Edie wrapped her arms around herself, trying to steady her breathing.

“Vivi!”

She knew there wouldn’t be an answer. Closing her eyes, she tried to conjure up their voice.

**_We both made a promise._ **

**_I didn’t let you die, and you didn’t leave me._ **

_But you left me._

_What would you say to that, huh, Vivi?_

Edie didn’t know.

She’d never know.

They were gone.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Anne didn’t know what she’d been expecting.

Granted, a hidden tunnel underneath a lake wasn’t the _most_ bizarre of scenarios, but it still seemed a little surreal, as if any moment she might wake up and find the whole thing was a dream.

The tunnel was brightly lit. Not only were torches held in sconces along its walls, but white light pulsed in streaks within the rock, like lightning caught within the earth.

“Fascinating,” Dr. Skirth murmured, tracing the paths of the light with her fingers. “Looks as if there’s some sort of energy source captured here. Maybe the generator is underneath here…?”

“Hey, Doc?”

Skirth jumped, turning to the mysterious figure behind her.

“I’m just as fascinated by creepy underground temple tech as the next guy, but maybe we should focus here?”

Skirth wasn’t quite certain what to make of Spider. For some reason, Weying had asked him to assist them, and for some equally vague motivation, he’d agreed. When she’d asked him why, all he’d said was, “Sounded like fun.” Which probably wasn’t meant to sound ominous, but since no emotion showed through his mask, his cheery tone came off as slightly uncanny.

Spider smiled at Skirth before remembering something for the umpteenth time.

_Right, I’m wearing a mask. Dangit. How do I keep forgetting that?_

A nudge to the arm knocked his train of thought back on track.

“You go first.”

Anne watched Spider skitter ahead in the fashion of his namesake.

“What made you decide to bring him?” Skirth asked.

She shrugged as she turned to the doctor. “Thought it might help to have someone on our side who’s as strange as our situation.”

“Heard that,” the referred to called. “By the way, there’s no one else here, so feel free to come on in.”

The tunnel opened into a circular cavern. Spider stood in the center, spreading his arms before bending at the waist into a dramatic bow.

“Welcome to La Casa de Mal, ladies! Over here is the Torture Corner, over there is the Other Torture Corner, and here on the opposite wall is The Big Honking Rock, Which is Probably Used for Torture Somehow.”

Skirth approached the rock and tapped it. “Looks like it’s covering the entrance to something. Maybe a safe.”

No one said, _Or a tomb._

Anne let out a frustrated breath through her nose. “Well, unless one of you is secretly lugging around an x-ray machine, there’s no way we’re finding out what’s on the other side.”

Spider joined Skirth and Weying over at the wall. He set his hand on the side of the rock and pushed lightly, stepping back as it rolled away to reveal another, smaller cavern.

Skirth jumped, glancing over at Spider incredulously. He shrugged.

“It’s lighter than it looks.”

Anne stepped into the cavern, blinking as her eyes adjusted from sterile white light to murky shadows. She glanced around, her stomach tight.

“There’s nothing here.”

There was a hoarse, rasping laugh, which rapidly collapsed into weak coughing. As Skirth and Spider followed Weying into the cave, the coughing stopped abruptly.

“Rude. Didn’t know I meant that little to you.”

Edie smiled faintly as she lay on the floor, watching as Anne looked around frantically. “Down here, Annie.”

Anne looked directly at her, but Edie could see that her eyes weren’t fixing on her, instead skimming over her as if she were a pebble on the ground.

The doctor was there too, standing behind Anne and setting a comforting hand on the blond woman’s shoulder. “Maybe there’s another section to the cavern?”

Edie blinked, sitting upright. “What the- I’m right here! Why can’t you-”

Another coughing fit cut her off. As she clutched at her sides, Edie realized she couldn’t see her arms. Forcing herself to stand, she stumbled forward, nearly knocking Anne over as Edie threw her arms around her neck. Anne shrieked and began clawing at the unseen force holding her as Edie clung on tighter.

_Is this because of you, Vivi?_

_It’s okay. It’s Anne. Remember me telling you about Anne? She’s a friend._

_(This has to be Vivi.)_

_If you can hear me, let the others see me._

Edie blinked again, and when she opened her eyes, she could see her arm hooked around Anne’s neck. Anne had stopped trying to pry her off as well, instead squeezing her to the point that Edie was pretty sure her ribs were going to break.

“Oh my gosh…Edie, I-”

Edie felt a sudden pain in her chest. Wincing, she began to pull away. “Hey, Annie, could you let up a little bit?”

Anne’s arms loosened, and Edie drew in a breath, glancing over Anne’s shoulders as she did so.

“Wait, is that Spider? Who’s that dude with him? And, uh, Skirth? You look kind of pale.”

Taking in Skirth’s horrified face, Edie peered down at Anne’s back, where a red spot was spreading between her shoulder blades.

Edie looked back up at Spider and the man next to him. The man was partially wrapped in a white sticky substance, which contrasted with his black robes.

She clutched her side again, remembering the feeling of getting her guts bruised by steel-toed boots. A glint of movement caught her eye- Spider was pulling something away from Mr. Cultist.

A gun.

Edie didn’t remember running past Skirth, pushing Spider aside, or knocking the man to the ground. All she knew was that her hands were around the man’s throat, and she was _squeezing,_ and her nails were biting through his skin.

Spider was peeling her off of Anne’s murderer now, prying her bloody-nailed fingers from the man’s throat. Even in her daze, Edie took a vague satisfaction in seeing the purple stripes of bruises across the delicate white skin of his neck.

Now Skirth was taking her aside, saying something about bringing samples to Drake, and the police must’ve gotten there sometime because there were red and blue lights flashing in the corner of Edie’s vision. As she struggled to breathe without panting, she realized she was outside.

She glanced up, up at the black sky speckled with white, and let tears roll freely down her cheeks.

_Look, Vivi. We made it._

_We’re out._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Loose ends get tied up.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S FINALLY DONE

Drake was angry, which was unusual.

Sure, he’d been angry when provoked by Brock, but that was a special exception to the rule. Besides, during the interview he’d been on edge from lack of sleep and the stress of juggling his public and business personas, not to mention irritated because of Pullman’s continued refusal to hand over any samples from the thing in the cavern.

Now, however, he was furious _._ And however afraid for her life she was currently, Skirth had to admit: it was immensely satisfying to see him so.

He was pacing, his hands gripping each other behind his back as if they were restraining themselves from wrapping around her throat. His eyes had a kind of cold light, like a star, if a star could somehow communicate absolute rage.

Drake had been sued for many things over his career. Neglecting safety standards, mistreatment of employees, endangerment of human life. But of all the things he’d been sued for, he’d never expected this.

“Building permits,” he spat. “They’re really disassembling my life’s work over building permits?”

Skirth wanted to laugh. When Officer Weying had asked for photos of the underground facility, Skirth hadn’t expected her to use them for _this._ Granted, a secret unsanctioned laboratory underneath the Life Foundation building was highly illegal, but so was everything else about Drake’s work. This would’ve been the least of his worries if he’d even thought to worry about it.

And now his world was crumbling down around him, because he didn’t have the paperwork for a couple of extra rooms.

The investigation was tomorrow- even if they could’ve moved everything incriminating by then, the photographs provided as evidence clearly showed the less respectable side of the Foundation.

Drake glared at the woman standing in front of him. He knew, of course- Skirth had already been in contact with the police, and the only leverage Drake had over her anymore was her life.

Which, judging from the look on his face, was about to be taken away very soon.

Drake regarded the samples that she’d brought him- little vials with droplets of black collected at the bottoms. Without turning back to look at her, he gave a slight nod.

She felt a hand clamp over her mouth, felt a needle slide into her neck. Her body dropped to the floor limply.

The man holding the syringe tucked it into his pocket, returning his employer’s slight nod before exiting the room.

Drake paused as he heard another dull thump. He turned to see the thug lying on the floor where the doctor’s body had been. Skirth wasn’t there.

“Hello, Mr. Drake.”

He glanced around, struggling to pinpoint the source of the voice he heard. Ordinarily he would’ve suspected it to be coming from the speakers- someone talking through the sound system, trying to rile him up- but the voice lacked that omnipresent sound. It was coming from _somewhere-_ but where…?

“Who is this?” he snapped, straightening his tie. He felt the muscles in his neck tighten, and he began counting, willing himself to relax. _1…2…3…_

The voice laughed. “It’s your three o’clock, of course. Don’t you remember?”

He froze. _23…24…25…_

“Where are you, Brock? I don’t have time for your games.”

Something cold slipped up his spine, and he realized that despite the blood boiling through him, his fists tightening, his heart pounding, he wasn’t angry.

_45…46…47…_

He was afraid.

The chill up his spine wasn’t the fear, though. And it didn’t stop at his neck- it kept going, curling around his throat, pressing against his cheek, _squeezing._

_58…59…_

_60…_

_…_

_…_

_…_

Skirth watched Drake’s body fall to the floor. Through the cameras, everything was mildly blurred, so even if they weren’t camouflaged, she doubted anyone would’ve been able to make out the slip of black wrapped around Drake’s throat. She cleared her throat before pressing the speaker button.

“Are you still in there?”

“Nope.”

Skirth jumped, standing upright as she turned to see them standing behind her. They were still camouflaged, after a fashion- her own face was smiling back at her smugly.

She sighed. “Was that really necessary?”

They laughed, and it was eerie- two voices laughing in unison, alien tones underlying a human sound.

“No, but it was fun.”

As they exited the building, Edie could feel Vivi flinch.

_What is it?_

**_Someone’s nearby._ **

_Probably just some homeless guy, V- don’t stress about it._

They passed a man curled on the sidewalk, his head propped up on his arms as he lay against the wall of the Life Foundation. When they were out of sight, he sat upright, pulling out his camera as a different woman left the building. He didn’t snap another picture, though- he looked through the ones he’d taken, instead.

They weren’t well-lit- he hadn’t risked using the flash. But her face was distinctive enough that there couldn’t be too much doubt as to her identity.

“Edie Brock, what did you just do?” Peter whispered to himself.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dan put out Mr. Belvedere’s food, scratching the feline’s ears as he came over to eat. The cat meowed complainingly as a pug came over to investigate.

Dan picked her up. “Come on, Arachne, you’ve already eaten.”

“Have you?”

Dan managed to keep from dropping the dog as he looked up. He frowned.

“You shouldn’t be here, Edie.”

Edie shrugged, cradling a Boston Terrier in her arms. “I’m just checking on you, dude. It’s good to see that these guys are doing well-” She indicated Anansi as he rested his head on her shoulder- “-but what about you?”

He laughed weakly. “Me? What about _you?_ Aren’t you wanted for murder?”

Edie set Anansi down gently. “I’m wanted for _questioning._ They don’t have any proof I did it- those photos are circumstantial evidence. For all they know, Drake and his guard killed each other in a duel.”

Dan’s frown deepened. “…Did you really do it?”

She didn’t answer, stroking the terrier’s head.

Dan pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’m calling the police, Edie.”

She kept petting Anansi. “You do that.”

He took his eyes off her for a second as he dialed the nine, glancing back as he dialed the first one. She was gone.

His phone chimed. He set down Arachne, checking his inbox. One new message sat there.

ED: Take care of yourself, Dan.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Peter knew Edie was sitting next to him. He didn’t acknowledge her openly, setting down his sandwich. She reached over and plucked it off his lap, taking a bite.

She swallowed. “Peanut butter and banana? Really?”

He shrugged. “Aunt May used to make them for me when I was a kid.”

They sat there for a while, him staring into the distance, her chewing on his sandwich.

He didn’t look at her when he spoke. “So how’d you know it was me?”

“Vivi recognized your scent,” Edie replied through a mouth full of peanut butter. “It’s pretty distinctive- Arachnakines aren’t native to Earth, are they?”

Peter shook his head. “So, how’d you end up here?”

Edie swallowed again, but her voice wasn’t the one that answered this time. “ **The Kree sent me and my brethren here for storage. And you?** ”

“Field trip.”

Edie smiled. “Separated from the group?”

He nodded pensively.

Her smile vanished. “So why’d you do it?”

“Stay on Earth?”

“Send in those pictures.”

“You killed someone.”

“And you haven’t?”

“No.”

From her expression, he could tell that wasn’t the response she’d been expected.

“ **Did that not count as murder? Snatching the life from that boy to walk around in his skin?** ”

He drew in a sharp breath. “He was already dead.”

There was another silence, more taut than the first.

“If we meet again,” Peter said, “I’m turning you in.”

“ ** _If we meet again, we won’t give you the chance._** ”

When he turned to her, she was gone. In her place was something tall and dark and strange, with wide white eyes and a maw full of needle-like teeth. Something alien.

Something like him.

“What should I call you?” he asked.

“ **I am called Vivi,** ” the alien said, speaking alone.

Her voice joined theirs again, and somehow, together, it sounded right.

“ ** _But we…we are Venom._** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dan, Mr. Belvedere, and the four dogs live happily ever after.  
> I had an idea for a sequel to this where Edie moves out of town and gets a new job where she adopts the nom de plume "Vivian Sym." Eventually she would become besties with Flash Thompson. There used to a bigger plot to it all, but if I ever write a follow-up in the future that would probably be it. If someone else likes this idea, please take it, I would love to read this without having to write it  
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed  
> (Especially you, Erin)


End file.
